It's Sunday afternoon and by some miracle of God, I have been alone for exactly 46 minutes...and counting. If I knew how this happened, trust me, I would share the secret so every woman could emulate this hour of glory! I am giddy with alone-ness.
STOP. From the distant corner of my backyard I can hear my daughters voices. One repeating, "Dadda. Dadda. Daaddddaaaaaaa!!!!!!" (it's the only word she knows, but how appropriate!) And the older one, "Daddy, I need some more bubbles! Daddy I need a towel. Daddy I need some more bubbles, please." I am so glad someone else is their bitch right now.
OKAY. How did I slip into this isolation chamber without anyone noticing? Well, maybe the doors opened when I left the family doing yard work so I could check the bank accounts on line. I know it's Sunday. And the banks are closed. Let me digress. I have "Shiny Rock" syndrome reminiscent of that Mouse in the children's Cookie Book. I was walking in the house to get a tape measure for John when I passed the kitchen. Seeing the wristbands on the kitchen counter made me remember how much money we spent at the Harbor Festival today. Remembering all the money we spent reminded me I haven't checked the bank accounts for awhile. So I fired up the laptop to have a look when I heard the girls out back. Hearing their voices reminded me that they needed a bath. So, while the laptop was booting up, I ran a bath. When I returned to the kitchen I saw a bag of chips, which made me hungry. So I rummaged through the cabinets for some snacks and a plan of attack for dinner. When I formulated a plan, I noticed the bath water was still running. When I reached the bath, I couldn't remember the last time I took a bath alone. So I jumped in and pretended I had disappeared. When John popped his head in to ask, "What happened to you?" I just smiled and sank deeper into the tub. He must have gotten the hint because it is nearing 62 minutes now. Alone. I even dressed myself, stared at my age lines in the mirror for two seconds and when I was done not one cabinet or drawer had emptied its contents onto the floor (which seems to happen every time the girls join me in there!). Oh glorious me time. I think I'll lie here on my bed and stare at the ceiling until they find me.
STOP. From the distant corner of my backyard I can hear my daughters voices. One repeating, "Dadda. Dadda. Daaddddaaaaaaa!!!!!!" (it's the only word she knows, but how appropriate!) And the older one, "Daddy, I need some more bubbles! Daddy I need a towel. Daddy I need some more bubbles, please." I am so glad someone else is their bitch right now.
OKAY. How did I slip into this isolation chamber without anyone noticing? Well, maybe the doors opened when I left the family doing yard work so I could check the bank accounts on line. I know it's Sunday. And the banks are closed. Let me digress. I have "Shiny Rock" syndrome reminiscent of that Mouse in the children's Cookie Book. I was walking in the house to get a tape measure for John when I passed the kitchen. Seeing the wristbands on the kitchen counter made me remember how much money we spent at the Harbor Festival today. Remembering all the money we spent reminded me I haven't checked the bank accounts for awhile. So I fired up the laptop to have a look when I heard the girls out back. Hearing their voices reminded me that they needed a bath. So, while the laptop was booting up, I ran a bath. When I returned to the kitchen I saw a bag of chips, which made me hungry. So I rummaged through the cabinets for some snacks and a plan of attack for dinner. When I formulated a plan, I noticed the bath water was still running. When I reached the bath, I couldn't remember the last time I took a bath alone. So I jumped in and pretended I had disappeared. When John popped his head in to ask, "What happened to you?" I just smiled and sank deeper into the tub. He must have gotten the hint because it is nearing 62 minutes now. Alone. I even dressed myself, stared at my age lines in the mirror for two seconds and when I was done not one cabinet or drawer had emptied its contents onto the floor (which seems to happen every time the girls join me in there!). Oh glorious me time. I think I'll lie here on my bed and stare at the ceiling until they find me.
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