The Incorrigible Night Owl

It’s Monday, that most hallowed of days when both children are dispatched to preschool for a glorious six full hours. My house is clean (thank you, cleaning lady), my errands have been completed, I just finished a lovely lunch of tomato soup and a grilled cheese, I have two toothsome candy bars awaiting me and a whole crop of shows on TiVo with which to pass the afternoon. So you can imagine my surprise when, as I was innocently putting things away in the refrigerator, I was accosted by a thought so outrageous, so downright blasphemous, that I scarcely dare to give voice to it.

I thought: “Gee, I can’t wait till the kids get home.”
SHOCK!
HORROR!
INSANITY!
What was I thinking? I mean, it’s only a short leap from there to an “Ask Me About My Kids” bumper sticker. When did I go soft? Ms. “I Need My Space,” Ms. “A Mommy Without ‘Me’ Time is a Cranky Mommy,” unappreciative of the gift of a six-hour stretch in which no one, not one single person, shared with me the intimate specifics of his or her most recent bodily function? And it’s not like I haven’t seen my kids much lately. We are with each other every. damned. day. I haven’t been taking much “me time” lately, partly because no one has suggested anything and partly because I haven’t had any money to do anything by myself. Could it be that I’m getting used to it?
Come to think of it, now that I look back — I haven’t really felt the urge to get out on my own in the past few weeks. Usually I get the itch at least once a week to take off by myself — shopping, to the book store, to get a bite to eat. But for some reason, lately, it hasn’t been a priority. I suppose that, with all the turmoil in my life recently, there is some convoluted psychological explanation for all of it. Death and the fragility of life and kids grow up too damned fast and before you know it they are out of the house and your life is a barren wasteland, blah-dee-blah-dee-blah. Whatever. All I know is it is a new and strange sensation for me to be sitting smack in the middle of my “day off” and suddenly realize I look forward to it ending.
Thank goodness I have my “me” trip coming up in less than two weeks. Perhaps that will shock me back to my normal self. Because, while it may be all right for some people, I don’t want to be a person who is totally happy doing nothing but The Mom Thing 24/7. I want to have the desire to do things for myself — in moderation; not to the detriment of the family, of course.
Till then, only an hour and forty minutes until the kids come home. Um….yay?