“If I had an entire weekend to myself I would..."
Sleep. And sleep some more. And then I might write. Or walk. And then likely sleep again. Can I just do that? Because really--it would heavenly. If not totally practical in getting me back into my refreshed, super smiling self. Oh and add that I'd sneak a bit in at one of those restaurants that allow you to sit there for hours reading and sipping drinks of whatever flavor (and alcohol) I choose. I'd like that too. With a good book. Okay that's it. An ideal, perfect weekend to myself.
What to know what would really happen? No really. It wouldn't happen--not unless of course you gave me a weekend to myself in a hotel far far away from home. THEN the idea entire-weekend-of-heaven might happen. If I am lucky. And wasn't housed in a town near any relative or friend.
Here's the real deal. After taking most of Friday to shuffle the husband and kiddo out of the house--I'd clean up. It's pathetic, I know--but you haven't seen my kitchen after a meal. It's like a tornado ventured through opening every cabinet and drawer to pull at least one utensil or dishware out of its place. Then I'd like throw a load of laundry in (they weren't kidding when throwing out parenting device--the laundry NEVER goes away), and then pick up the 800 toys and books that are under foot. And then I'd turn into Mrs. Declutterer. Picking up items placed in odd spots and move them to correct spots--and pick up link and dustballs that have roamed into my path... and well, you can see where this is going. It'd be Friday passed midnight and I'd fall into bed in cleaning exhaustion.
As much as I'd love to sleep in, my eyes would spring open at 8 o'clock with the irrational fear that 1) I missed my alarm sounding for work or 2) my husband and kid have suddenly vanished killing any hope of sleeping in. So again I'd wake up, do some more odd and end cleaning (vacuuming, sweeping, sheet changing)-- but then I would get into a shower.
A LONG soothing, uninterrupted shower. I'd lazily get ready after that--even running around the house naked. Well not naked, but sorta towel clad naked looking for that perfect lotion that I left in the kitchen to-be-brought-to-the-bedroom-pile. After risking scaring off every neighbor or passerby with my nakedness, I'd return to a windowless and safe bathroom to apply lotion, get dressed, do all the things we women do to get ready and feel a little more human.
Then there is coffee, a breakfast over a book (or book over breakfast) and then I might be able to sit down and write. Maybe. If there isn't an errand to run. Like actual food for breakfast. Which is the more probably scenario. After groceries, dry cleaning, and any other odd-n-end (like today-- oil change and tire rotation)--it's pretty close to dinner time. Do I go out? or stay home? Likely sandwich on the way home. Then it is clean-up time again--all the groceries and odds and ends and look it's dark outside. Time to read or write some more and head to bed. Again.
But somewhere in there the kiddo and hubby call. And my heart breaks. And I become lonely and disoriented. I yearn for them both to be home messing up my now scrubbed and vacuumed clean house. And so after I hang up and mutter to myself about what's happened to my alone-ness skills and bury my nose in a book. Or try to. And then I attempt writing for a bit. And it works. For like an hour or two. And imagine that. It is 1 AM and I am exhausted. I climb into bed and wala, it is Sunday morning. Coffee in hand I wait anxiously at the door for the kid and husband to come back.
Ah the joys of motherhood. It takes all the fun out of freetime. The shower idea alone could be part of this weekend alone fantasy and I'd be happy. Motherhood does a real number on our beauty regime. And apparently the sleep regime. And mental regime.
Ah well. The good with the bad I guess. And a little less time for ourselves.
This whole post has been brought to you by Crazy Hip Blog Mamas and their lovely Writing Collaboration.
What to know what would really happen? No really. It wouldn't happen--not unless of course you gave me a weekend to myself in a hotel far far away from home. THEN the idea entire-weekend-of-heaven might happen. If I am lucky. And wasn't housed in a town near any relative or friend.
Here's the real deal. After taking most of Friday to shuffle the husband and kiddo out of the house--I'd clean up. It's pathetic, I know--but you haven't seen my kitchen after a meal. It's like a tornado ventured through opening every cabinet and drawer to pull at least one utensil or dishware out of its place. Then I'd like throw a load of laundry in (they weren't kidding when throwing out parenting device--the laundry NEVER goes away), and then pick up the 800 toys and books that are under foot. And then I'd turn into Mrs. Declutterer. Picking up items placed in odd spots and move them to correct spots--and pick up link and dustballs that have roamed into my path... and well, you can see where this is going. It'd be Friday passed midnight and I'd fall into bed in cleaning exhaustion.
As much as I'd love to sleep in, my eyes would spring open at 8 o'clock with the irrational fear that 1) I missed my alarm sounding for work or 2) my husband and kid have suddenly vanished killing any hope of sleeping in. So again I'd wake up, do some more odd and end cleaning (vacuuming, sweeping, sheet changing)-- but then I would get into a shower.
A LONG soothing, uninterrupted shower. I'd lazily get ready after that--even running around the house naked. Well not naked, but sorta towel clad naked looking for that perfect lotion that I left in the kitchen to-be-brought-to-the-bedroom-pile. After risking scaring off every neighbor or passerby with my nakedness, I'd return to a windowless and safe bathroom to apply lotion, get dressed, do all the things we women do to get ready and feel a little more human.
Then there is coffee, a breakfast over a book (or book over breakfast) and then I might be able to sit down and write. Maybe. If there isn't an errand to run. Like actual food for breakfast. Which is the more probably scenario. After groceries, dry cleaning, and any other odd-n-end (like today-- oil change and tire rotation)--it's pretty close to dinner time. Do I go out? or stay home? Likely sandwich on the way home. Then it is clean-up time again--all the groceries and odds and ends and look it's dark outside. Time to read or write some more and head to bed. Again.
But somewhere in there the kiddo and hubby call. And my heart breaks. And I become lonely and disoriented. I yearn for them both to be home messing up my now scrubbed and vacuumed clean house. And so after I hang up and mutter to myself about what's happened to my alone-ness skills and bury my nose in a book. Or try to. And then I attempt writing for a bit. And it works. For like an hour or two. And imagine that. It is 1 AM and I am exhausted. I climb into bed and wala, it is Sunday morning. Coffee in hand I wait anxiously at the door for the kid and husband to come back.
Ah the joys of motherhood. It takes all the fun out of freetime. The shower idea alone could be part of this weekend alone fantasy and I'd be happy. Motherhood does a real number on our beauty regime. And apparently the sleep regime. And mental regime.
Ah well. The good with the bad I guess. And a little less time for ourselves.
This whole post has been brought to you by Crazy Hip Blog Mamas and their lovely Writing Collaboration.
