I get to be a single mom to 3 kids for 10 days.

Ten days are probably not long enough to earn a true appreciation for all the work single moms have to do, but I’m going to give it my best shot.  My hat is off to all you ladies who do it day in and day out!

Greg, Abby and Ian left Thursday for Mexico, where they will work with our church to build houses for impoverished Mexican families.

I’ll be home with my three littlies, Aden, Cai, and Cael.

We plan to do nothing noble.

Fun, yes.  We may visit cows!

Noble, no.

I feel woefully unprepared for these 10 days.

I was originally feeling fine.  All empowered and “Me Woman.  Me Strong.”

But then I realized that all of my babysitters – every single one – went on the Mexico trip, too.

Here are my babysittin’ girls last weekend:

That’s Abby, Brenna, Katee, Elsie and Erinn dressed up as Phineas and Ferb characters Stacy, Sally, Vanessa, “Linda the Mom,” and Candice.

On the bright side, these lovely ladies were planning and executing a fantastic birthday party for our friend, Spencer, who turned a whoppin’ 7 years old.

On the down side, Linda was always referred to as “Linda the Mom.”  Not just Linda.  Oh, no.  “Linda the Mom.”  I spent most of the party being offended on behalf of a cartoon character and trying to talk myself down.  You can see how well that worked, since I’m griping about it a week later to you.

Here’s the birthday boy, Spencer (aka Perry the Platypus), with Abby:

I love Spencer.  He’s such a BOY.  He’s wild and crazy.  He throws my 4-year-old boys around, which they completely dig.  He burps, which my 11-year-old boy completely digs.  And he hugs me really, really hard, which I completely dig.

Spencer rocks.

Spencer’s parents are my longtime friends, Jeff and Carleta.

Spencer is my fault because I introduced Jeff and Carleta.

This blog is Spencer’s fault because Carleta needed to see some raw parenting data.  You can go ahead and blame them.

We hosted Spencer’s birthday at our house because Carleta said my house is good for kids.

I’m pretty sure she meant that I don’t care that the noise level will rival a Space Shuttle launch.  Or that red Kool-Aid will be spilled.  Or that the slimy guts of a rubber chicken will be broken all over my floor.

That’s Spencer squeezing the guts out of the rubber chicken.

Carleta was right.  I thought it was hilarious when it broke.

Well, minus the sad kid.  I didn’t like that part as much.

Last week, we had a party for Spencer, 28 party guests, and 10 kids sleeping overnight in my house.

Last week, we had 5 middle and high school girls to plan party games, entertain kids, and make three batches of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

This week, I’m singing On My Own from Les Mis.  It’s overused.  It’s whiny.  It makes me cry.

It’s also completely invalid, since I’ve made plans that involve pretty darn good company.  My littlies PLUS some!  Did I mention the cows??

I’m going to miss Greg.  I’m going to miss Ian.  I’m going to miss Abby.

Well, maybe not the mouthing off parts.

Or the part where I eat too many of those warm cookies.  (Or the part where I chisel the overbaked, brown, granite-like cookies off the pan so I can eat them, too.)

But the rest of it, I’m going to miss.

Like I’m going to miss all my babysittinest girls.

In the meantime, my littlies will do their best to keep the volume high, the spills constant, and the guts oozing.

I’m sure they’ll do just fine.