Mrs. Robbo is away to visit her family this weekend, leaving Ol’ Robbo to hold the fort.  Not alone, of course.  Instead, badly outnumbered.  The dawning realization of the tactical situation always produces the same effect, however.

Of course, the mission is very much different than it used to be.  Back in the day when the gels were but wee ones, it was all about diapers and naps, playtime and baths and all that sort of thing.  Nowadays, with a household of teens and tweens, my role is no longer that of Nanny, but of Provost Marshall:  nagging about homework; driving them to pick up their laundry and shovel out their tornado-struck rooms; insisting that yes you do need to shower today; finding an endless trail of lost but critical items; “I said turn off that damned television right now!”;  breaking up skirmishes.  It’s just as exhausting as it used to be, although nowadays it’s more a test of moral determination and willpower and not so physical.  (Well, that’s not completely true:  All the trips up and down the stairs that these tasks involve get to my knees after a while.)

And then there is the whole question of logistics and transportation, given that all of the gels often seem to need to be in about half a dozen places simultaneously.  Fortunately, this is a pretty light weekend in terms of activities.  Also, Mrs. R, bless her heart, arranged as many lifts from other parents as possible before she left.  So, as they say, I’ve got that going for me.

Once more unto the breach, I guess.