A Little Alone Time

18 months ago, I probably would have fallen at your feet if you had offered me a few hours without my kids.

I love my children. I love them more than my own self. I would walk to the ends of the earth for any of them. I just don't want to be around them every single moment of the day. Even when the boys were in school and I had no job (outside the home) it seemed that I kept myself busy with housework and volunteer work.

Life has changed significantly. Every other weekend (and one weeknight a week) the boys go off to Steve's house, and I am left alone in the house. I have no one to cook meals for, no one to put to bed, no one to dictate what goes on the television, and no one to try and describe a new Dr. Who Minecraft Mod while I'm busy braiding my hair and listening to music with adult lyrics.

Most of the time, when the boys are gone, I have the time scheduled. I have a meeting or a choir practice. The weekends I don't have the boys I clean the house and get to shop for groceries my myself. I teach myself how to use the rider-mower so that I can mow the meadow which used to be our lawn.

But sometimes, I find myself with nothing to do.

These are the moments I'm supposed to fill with leisure activities. Call up a friend! Read a book! Do the things I always said I wanted to but couldn't because kids were around. (For the record, most of these projects involve cleaning.)

A couple of weeks ago, Steve took the boys on vacation for an entire week.

No kids for an entire week.

This is a huge adjustment. Not just routine-wise, but because for the past ten years I have been defining who I was as a human being through my children. "Mother." I quit my job to stay home and be a "Mother." I stopped spending time with young single friends because I had a baby and I was a "Mother." The TV I watched, the music I listened to, even the clothing I wore changed - yes, because I was a bit older, but mostly because I was a parent. And let's not forget the fact that, after three boys, there are parts of my body that will simply never be the same.

So, who was I before that? Um... I dunno. I was a girl in my late 20s who liked to do the things that 20-somethings do. Now? Well... I don't know. I'm almost 40. I don't feel middle aged. I don't always make grown-up choices (I had three biscuits after dinner instead of one.) Who am I? Any given weekend I can't tell you what it is I even wish I were doing. What do I do for fun? Um...

I'm not going to lie. I can get rather down and depressed about it. I have my ways of dealing with it or distracting me from it, but they don't always come through.

So what did I do while the boys were on vacation?

The first night I was alone I took a bucket or warm water out to the deck and scrubbed away the green and yellow pollen buildup.  I got halfway through before I became so sad - this is what I was doing the night before a weekend? I cried. I cried so much I had to stop working and crawl upstairs into bed, where I remained for an entire day.

I have to be careful about the crying. It isn't always helpful - sometimes it is! But not always. Also, my eyes tend to puff up, and if I'm not careful I wake up with bags under my eyes. Most people might simply let this sort of thing pass, but I work with a very enthusiastic and well-meaning 25-year-old (born in '89) who is prone to being concerned about my well-being, and who is not beyond commenting on my appearance when I look less than my best.

I stayed in bed a whole day. Then the next day I got up and finished cleaning the porch. I did laundry. I cleared the clutter off the dining room table. I played piano a little bit. I wrote a little bit. I bugged people online a little bit. I managed to make it to the Library one day. I hung out with a friend and had some (Very) strong margaritas.

Still by the time they came home, I was more than ready to see them.

It will get better. Things will get easier, Eventually. I know this. In the meantime, though, these stretched with no boys hare hard.