I had a stolen morning last week. But I didn’t feel like a thief. I felt (secretly) relieved to be going through my regular morning routine sans enfants. They were happily waking up at their beloved grandparents’ house. Fantastic for them and absolutely wonderful beyond wonderful for me.
My children spent an impromptu night at Grandma and Grandpa’s in the middle of the week and I spent that evening at home with only my husband. We went to bed together; something we haven’t done in ages. We talked, we cuddled, we acted like teenagers, giddy with the silence in the house.
The next morning, I got up after my husband left for work; ate breakfast while reading a magazine; did my make-up and hair slowly and deliberately; grabbed a coffee at a coffee shop; and drove into the office listening to my radio station.
For every second I had alone, I took great gulping breaths of air as if I had been holding my breath for the last four years.
I truly believe that parents should have time away from their children. And even though I have taken advantage of many opportunities offered by my very awesome “village” (my mom and dad, my sisters and my friends who have offered to watch the kids while I do something for myself), planned time to myself is never quite as good as suddenly finding myself, on a regular day, without my children.
I read a post over at The Gypsy Mama that reminded me of how important getting back to ourselves really is. As Lisa-Jo said in her post, “I don’t know a mother who isn’t better for time alone.”
And this mother was certainly better after an impromptu evening and morning to do her own thing, even though that thing was just plain old boring routine.
Because sometimes, plain old boring routine is the best sanity saving tool a mother has.