You guys. I have just enjoyed an entire 24 hours of quiet. Of rest. Of meeting the needs of no one else except my own. Of, well, being completely selfish. And since it was an early birthday present, I have felt no shame. Okay, so I felt a smidgen of shame. But then I meandered around Target (alone. alone!), and all shame melted away just like that.
So yes, Matt whisked the kids away to Durham to spend the night with his grandparents last night, allowing me the priceless gift of a house all to myself for a whole day. I know, I know. I’m so predictable. My birthday rolls around, and I ask for some time alone. Mother’s Day? Same deal. He’s got me figured out, that man of mine. He even (after a littttle marital strife over the issue) took himself to get a flu shot last week. He said it was a birthday present. I said I’d take it. You see, I’m not all that high-maintenance. I just need quiet every now and then. (And my husband not to get the flu thankyouverymuch.) But yes, quiet. Novel concept, I know.
I really haven’t done much since yesterday afternoon. In other words, it’s been heavenly. I’ve sat on the couch without TV or music playing. Just sitting. Drinking in the silence. I’ve made lists. I’ve doused my head in coconut oil (they call it a “coconut oil mask” and promise it will make my hair do all sorts of supernatural things) whilst pretending I was in some luxurious tropical spa. I fielded a phone call early this morning from my mom who was calling to wish me a happy birthday. A DAY EARLY. FROM MY OWN MOTHER. It’s because I’m the middle child, you see. (No hard feelings, mom. I forgive you. Probably because I can roll with the punches and go with the flow. Because, you know, I’m the middle child and all.)
I’ve also read. I started and finished this book. Because it was raw and honest and redemptive- just the genre of writing I’ve craved recently- and because I could. What’s more, I’ve read with candles burning… which is a rarity around these parts because do you REALLY think I’m about trust my ever-running/flipping/ninja-chopping kids around open flames, no matter how fancy they might smell? Uh, no. Oh, and of course I broke outta here to make my totally-cliche solo trip to Target where I slowly meandered down every.single.enticing.aisle of the store, all the while giving sympathetic glances and understanding head nods to all the weary mothers of disgruntled kids throughout the store. Because, moms, aren’t there enough disapproving glares that are cast our way when we’re out with kids? We moms gotta stick together, kids or no kids in tow. My sympathy was extra heartfelt today, however, as I knew what awaited me at home. Nothing but quiet. Yes, Jesus loves me.
Sometimes I feel guilty for needing these chunks of alone time. Like I’m a sub-par mom for admitting that, forthelove, it feels like a flippin’ vacation to go to work some days. A complete loser for being thrilled at the chance to get all hermit-like and talk to no one for a whole day. Or a selfish jerk for relishing moments in which I’m only doing for myself and not for the other little people who always need so many things from me. Maybe I’m some of that. (All of that?) But I’m just going to put this out there…
I love my husband and kids with more intensity than I ever thought possible. God’s been entirely too gracious to me.
However, my dear friends, sometimes a girl’s just gotta step away from the crazy. Even if it takes a birthday to do so.