Me Time

What do the Yeti, the Loch Ness Monster, aliens, and time to myself all have in common?  That's right.  They don't exist.

Now, if you know my husband, you'll know that he believes in each of these mythical ideas, including the concept of "me time".  Bless his heart, he means well.  I love when he recognizes that I might be a little worn thin and takes the girls outside to play.  He always comes back in the house later and, very proud of himself, proclaims, "Aren't you glad I took the girls outside?  Did you enjoy your time to yourself?"  Here, I have to smile appreciatively and say, "Yes.  Thank you.  I did enjoy that," while I'm really thinking, "Yes.  Thank you.  Catching up on the laundry was really fun, but I think I enjoyed emptying the dishwasher even more." 

Even when I'm sleeping, I always have one ear open, for at any time Hallie may come downstairs.  There is no such thing as "me time."  Honestly, most days that's okay.  I love my girls more than any mother has ever loved her children, and I truly enjoy spending time with them.  However, some days, I would be exceedingly happy if they could just take care of themselves and leave me the heck alone. 

Today was one of those days.  I actually decided to make myself useful today and get a few things done around the house.  I didn't have much to do, but when I get focused on a task, I don't like for my attention to be diverted.  I started first by emptying the dishwasher.  A 5 minute job, right?  Wrong.  In order to keep Leah from climbing into the dishwasher, I had to sit her on top of the counter while I unloaded.  With her dirty feet dangling all over the clean dishes in my open dishwasher, I finally decided that might not be the best place for her.  I tried just moving her feet, and then she started sticking her hands in there, touching every glass she could get her hands on.  She tired of that after a few minutes and moved on to the sink to turn the water on and off.  Of course, I had to put her back on the floor, but that only angered the beast, so she stood at my side crying and begging me to pick her up.  Emptying the dishwasher one-handed takes a long time. 

Next, I moved on to some laundry.  As I sat in the floor folding clothes, the children decided this would be the very best time to play a rousing game of tag in the 2-feet of space surrounding me, effectively unfolding the clothes I had previously folded and carefully placed beside me.  I don't like folding clothes once.  I hate folding clothes twice.  After I got most clothes put away, I moved on to some other task.  After only mere minutes, I went back into Hallie's room for something, and discovered that she had tried on and discarded onto her floor at least four outfits.  Yes, I put the clothes away.  Now, please no lectures here about how I should have made Hallie come back in her room and put all those clothes away herself to make a point.  I already know what I should have done, but I also know that, so far, 20 minutes worth of chores had already taken me over an hour, and frankly, I just wanted to get it done.  There will be plenty of time for a teachable moment later.  Not today.

Finally, after the girls ate lunch, I thought I was going to get one of those precious moments to myself.  The girls ran outside to play, and I sat down at the kitchen table to eat my soup and read my e-mail (okay, okay I was totally checking facebook).  I watched the girls playing together outside and smiled happily, relishing my moment of quiet.  Until, of course, after about 13 seconds when the girls started fighting over a sand toy, Leah came in the house screaming, and Hallie came in after her telling me why whatever happened wasn't her fault.  My quiet lunch turned into me eating soup one-handed while Leah sat in my lap sniveling, and Hallie booted me off the computer so she could play her Disney dress-up game. 

The rest of the day was full of "get me juice," "get my blanket," "I'm hungry," "swing me," etc.  I'm sorry to admit, I was more than ready for bedtime when it rolled around.  I prompted the girls to run upstairs and put their pajamas on, and I would be up directly.  When I got upstairs, I found two very naked girls in Leah's floor reading a book.  Not exactly what I said to do, but close enough.  At least they were upstairs in someone's bedroom, one step closer to being in pajamas.  It's usually at this point in my day when I feel very fortunate and blessed to be the mother of these two amazing girls.  Today, I just wanted those amazing girls to go to bed.  We read our books, and I turned out the lights to sing them a song.  I chose one of my favorites tonight; one that my own mother used to sing to me.  I'd like to share that song with you now.

The cruel war is raging.  Johnny has to fight. (Hallie, sit still.)
I want to be with him from morning 'til night.
I want to be with him (Leah, your blanket is right here.) it grieves my heart so.
Won't you (shhhhh) let me go with you? 
No, my love, no.  (I don't know why he won't let her go.  Be quiet.)

Tomorrow is Sunday (No, not really, Hallie.  Tomorrow is Tuesday.), Monday is the day
That your captain will call you, and you must obey.
Your captain (Where are you going, Leah?) will call you.  It grieves my heart so.
Won't you let me go with you?  (I told you I don't know why.  It's just a song.  Hush.)
No, my love, no. 

I'll tie back my hair (Stop making that noise, Hallie.), men's clothing I'll put on.
I'll pass as your comrade (I said stop, Hallie.) as we march along. 
I'll pass as your comrade, no one will ever know.
Won't you let me go with you?  (If you don't stop, you're going to have to leave the room.)
No, my love, no. 

Oh, Johnny, oh Johnny (Oh, nevermind.  Just forget it!  Get in the bed!)

Well, now the girls are in bed, and I'd like to think that I'm headed downstairs to have a little "me time."  But as you and I both know, this is a mythical idea.  It doesn't exist.  I'm not even fully in the kitchen, and Kevin is already talking to me.  At one point, he actually asks me the question, "What is your idea of a perfect husband."  Right now, my answer?  A quiet one.