My mind raced with what I could do, what I could accomplish with no one but my own schedule and demands. I imagined what it would be like to shower. By myself. In daylight hours. I fantasized about sleeping in, simply because I could.
I imagined long workouts, reading a book, great shopping adventures and a clean house. I got giddy with the idea of reading a sewing pattern and actually being able to understand and apply the logic all in one day. I imagined relaxation unlike any I have had recently as even if I am by myself for a little while, I am always hurrying home to a sitter or to an appointment.
Two days later, the moment had come. I kissed those sweet girls goodbye and was alone. I am rarely alone. Not even in the bathroom alone, and even if I am I can still hear the requests, demands and overall noise that is associated with young children.
The first thing I noticed was the silence. Eerie, yet comfortable silence. I knew my children were safe, and happy, and that made me happy....and very "free" feeling. I entered favorite stores and spent hours just browsing. No real purpose, just enjoying the fact that I could. I parked my car and entered Starbucks, a luxury few people realize as getting kids out of car seats, crossing traffic and juggling hot coffee isn't as enjoyable as it sounds. I went to the mall and shopped for bras. A task I had been dreading and simply can't do with children in tow. Probably why I hadn't bought any since having said children.
With each passing hour, I felt more "free." The mommy cloak was being shed and more of me was appearing. By nightfall, I was goofy and care free, enjoying a romantic and fun evening with my husband. The kind that reminded me of how well we complement each other. The kind where even after 10 years of marriage, I find new ways to fall more in love with my best friend.
By morning, I awoke early and did grocery shopping. Not really as I had imagined, but it needed to be done. It was efficient and even enjoyable. I came home and walked three miles, another thing I just don't make time for when raising children. By 10 am I was feeling productive and fruitful. Dancing in my underwear, singing out loud and feeling like me again. I was ready to reclaim my children and give them the "me" that was momentarily lost.
No, I hadn't done all that I imagined I would in those precious 24 hours. Not even a fraction of it. But I did something even better. I found me again. I found what makes me happy, what refills my soul. I found that I can't wait for help to be offered, but rather I need to ask for help more often. I need to offer help to other moms. I need to not lose sight of who I am and who I was created to be. It's not fair to my husband, not fair to my kids and not fair to me.
It's amazing what a little time alone can do to a person. :)
