Once upon a time, when I was young and stupid and knew nothing of the world, I used to ask my mother on the weekends, “Why don’t you want to have any friends or go out?” It used to boggle my mind that, while I was getting dressed to go to the mall and cruise for trouble and my step-dad prepared to go out and partake in one of his many outdoorsy hobbies, my mother seemed quite content to curl up with a good book or movie at home all on her lonesome. Until now.
“Pool party with friends, you say, dear husband? No, no, no…you go. Have fun. I will just martyr it up and stay home with Jp while you have all of the fun, my love. I don’t mind– at all.”
Because, the truth is, I truly don’t mind. I set Jp up with a movie, flop down on the couch, and just relax. It is lovely in it’s simplicity. Then I will give my son dinner, a bath, put him to bed, and then crack open the bottle of champagne that is in my refrigerator and celebrate being able to watch what I want on TV without having to compromise.
I will not have to talk.
Or answer questions.
Or fetch things for others.
Or make peanut butter sandwiches.
Or clean hands.
Or wash dishes.
Or pick up toys.
Or prepare a dinner.
I will be blissfully sipping my bubbly while probably watching something that will make me cry that I could never get my husband to agree to. I may even do yoga in my underwear while listening to reggae full blast in the middle of the living room. The possibilities are endless.
So, my lovely mother, for all of the times I chastised you for being “boring” or “lame”– I am so, so sorry. What you were was a person that put everyone else first and could not wait for that door to slam shut so you could also shut out all of the endless demands that came with a full house.
You wise, wise woman, you.
I have hardwood floors…this isn’t off of the table yet.
I'm just living minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.