Speedway.
More specifically in the parking lot of the Speedway gas station around the corner from my house. If you ever pull in to get gas sometime and wonder about the soccer mom minivan parked in the farthest parking spot with the seven stick people and three stick dogs in the back window...me. Don't come visit.
I cannot express in mere blog words how much I love being a stay at home mom. It is the bee's knees. I can think of nothing else I would rather do in a day than raise my kids and run our home. And I know that I am very lucky, that not all mothers can be home with their kids. And not all women can be mothers. And I know that some of them may read this and express outrage that I dare utter one word that is not positive and glowing and thankful. Choke back the rage, I know how blessed I am. But I am also other things. Namely tired.
Mothering children is hard work. Way harder work than I have ever, ever done. And I have done food service AND retail. I am convinced the reason it is so hard is that it is constant. Especially with the babies. When it was Jack and I and our big kids, it was still hard. But then they went to bed, we poured wine, had conversation about things besides breastmilk and poop -and by morning we were recharged, ready to go. With addition of Baby Boy and Baby Girl? There is no bedtime. Not for Mama. I am on call 24/7. And not the kind of on call where you get paid to pretty much sleep and get the occasional emergency.
I am always ON. I don't have moments where I stop mothering. There is always a child attached to me or trying to attach to me or screaming at me because I won't let him attach to me. And in that rare magical moment when they both sleep - at the same time - well, then I try and get as much housework done as fast as I can because it is very hard to do housework with all that attachment. And we need clean spoons for our cereal and doughnut dinner later tonight.
Even when Jack comes home, I am still in high demand. Daddies do many things that are apparently not safe for one year olds. Go figure. I usually make dinner in between potty training sessions and nursing breaks. We try and eat as a family unit. Then Jack has to get things ready for tomorrow and take a shower, so I mother through that. Then it's bedtime. And Jack is tired from a long day and has to get up early, so he falls asleep even if he tries to help. So I juggle bedtime and mother them to sleep. It is usually midnight at this point. Then I attempt sleep, but mothering means you hear every noise and think every awful thought and never achieve actual restful sleep. You are always sleeping close to the surface ready to jump up to ward off home invaders or investigate suspicious coughs or check for regular breathing. (Which you said you would never do before you had kids, but you will). If someone wakes up at night, which they do, I mother them through hunger or belly aches or the need to cuddle. And then I wake up with the first one and do it again for the next 24 hours. It does not stop. Someone always wants something from me. There is never a moment to think or even breathe my own air sometimes. I am always ON. And I LOVE it, but it is HARD.
So I sit in the parking lot at Speedway.
Here is how it goes down. I go grocery shopping. Alone. I try and do it every other week by myself. The other times I drag kids. But every other week, twice a month, I go all alone. I take a long time, too. I go up and down all the aisles. I peruse the ads and check my online coupons. I meal plan in my head. I take free samples of things I don't even like. I walk down the shampoo aisle and think about all the hair products I would buy if I ever had time to do my hair or if our tweens wouldn't just abscond with them anyway. I walk the home office and smell the new paper and look at the pretty planners and fantasize about how it would be if I had a family planner that my family would utilize and respect. As if. I am happy we are successful with the dump bucket system. Then, when I am sure that my families nutritional needs will be met and have tossed in some kind of sugar treat to appease their sweet tooth...then...I head for home.
Halfway there is the magical place. The place where no one knows my name. Like the anti-Cheers. I am anonymous. I always park in the corner, buy a 20 oz Coke and two candy bars. I always think I should buy two candy bars so I have one for later...but of course I just eat them both. Who are we kidding here? If I take that home my children will sniff it out in three minutes flat. Also, I have no self control.
I sit in the parking lot with my seat back and enjoy my snacks and play mindless things on my phone....All. Alone. For ten whole minutes sometimes. I don't answer calls. I don't pick up the van. I don't check my responsible apps like the calender or the to-do list. I do nothing productive. Just shovel in the sugar and crush candy. Ahhh...sweet release.
After ten minutes I am ready to pick back up my mothering. I am actually looking forward to it. I am thinking about what my kids and Jack are doing while I was away, planning our week out in my head, smiling on my way home. Because I am blessed, and I do love my kids and my husband and our home. And I appreciate this beautiful opportunity I have to mother these little people. But every two weeks, for ten minutes, in the back of a Speedway parking lot...it is all about me.
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