You know that old saying “Once in a blue moon”? Does it ever leave you wondering “how can it be once in a blue moon if there’s literally never a blue moon?” Logic would lead you to the conclusion that once in a blue moon isn’t just rare, it NEVER happens. That, for me, is alone time with my husband. When the kids are upstairs drooling on their pillows doesn’t count. I mean REAL alone time. Time they can’t come waltzing into the room to tell me their sock fell off.
REAL. BONAFIDE. ALONE TIME.
When’s the last time you had it? I can remember the exact day, though the details are a bit fuzzy, because it’s been that long. We’re lame, cheap homebodies. We don’t like hiring babysitters. We kinda prefer to hang out at home.
I know. It’s sad. We should make time for ourselves more. I KNOW. YOU DON’T NEED TO TELL ME. But it’s tough to make the plans and take the time when you’re not used to it, so honestly, the only real “us” time we get is when the fates work in our favor. And wouldn’t you know it– fate was on our side yesterday.
The kids had to go to school, the husband did not have to go to work– which left us by our lonesome, not just for a measly hour or two, but all. day. long. 8am – 2:45pm. That’s a hefty chunk of time!
There was so much we could do in that time without crotchfruit tugging on our sleeves. We could finally go see an R rated movie in the theater and not only get two bites of popcorn because they ate it all before the damn previews. We could have gone to one of the fancier restaurants we’ve always wanted to go to but haven’t been able to because they aren’t “kid friendly” or we don’t want to hear them whine about there being nothing to eat, or pay the cost for an adult plate for a picky 8 year old. We could go shopping and MAYBE not buy the kids anything for once. We could even touch each other’s butts like the olden days, but not quite with such reckless abandon because NO MORE KIDS.
As far as I could see, the options were endless. We could do any of those things, or even a combination of a few of them, and still have time to spare. It wasn’t until I was doing my makeup to go into the world, not as “Holden and Parker’s Mom”, but as JENNY that a feeling washed over me. A familiar, yet unsettling one. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first. It frittered away in the back of my mind until I walked down the stairs to tell Thomas I was ready to go and he said “We need to stop by the grocery store for a few things.”
HA HA. RESPONSIBILITY. That was the feeling pirouetting in the back of my brain. Creeping up on me like someone from high school I try to avoid upon seeing them in public. On a day we could do anything, the last thing I wanted to do was succumb to responsibility. That is my EVERY day! NOT today!
I fought it to the best of my ability, but where did I find myself an hour later? In the damn checkout line glaring at the sticker next to the credit card reader that read “anyone on or before this date in 1996 can buy alcohol.”
Responsibility has aged me more than children.
@AtypicalMiriam I am frightening *and* tall 😂
@AtypicalMiriam He fears me. I am the only female I this house. All penis people live in fear.
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Person on tv: Age is just a number! 10yo: Yeah, a number that pulls you closer to death.
Party animal over here pic.twitter.com/OVpKPuu4Yc
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The card my kid made me at school. I truly don't know why I expected anything different 😂😂 pic.twitter.com/T7nai0ycqS