Tonight had one of those rare moments when my super fantastic lover held me close, outside our van of screaming children, and whispered in my ear, “I’ll take the kids, you go by yourself.”
“Where?” I asked, surprised by the offer
“Anywhere.” He replied, “Anywhere by yourself, I’ll take the kids.”
Then, by pure habit, I’m sure, I begin to protest, “No, you don’t have to take the kids. I need to get home and start icing a cake.”
“You know if you go home now that you won’t be icing a cake until the kids are in bed, and that wont be for at least another hour. I will take of bed time, you come back when they are already in bed and then you can start icing the cake.”
He was right, as usual. Tomorrow is our third child’s third birthday and as usual, I leave the cake icing to do at midnight the night before. Honestly, though, when else am I going to do it. I mean, have you ever tried icing a cake while all the kids are up? It is nearly impossible.
My little sweet hearts, just like their mama as a kid, always want to help in the kitchen. My mom would rarely let me, declining my offer with a simple, “I just want to get this done.” How offended I would be, and now the tables have turned and I get it. Unfortunately, help from little ones often creates more work, more mess and takes more time. Unlike my mother, and being a homeschooling mom, I do create opportunities for my kids to cook and bake with me in the kitchen. However, when I am trying to get something done, in a timely manner that demands my constant attention, such as cake decorating, the last thing I need is to be batting little fingers away from my art, which will inevitably cause a cake decorating disaster.
“OK, I will go somewhere.” I accept my lovers invitation. It is so like me to have to be talked into doing the very thing I long to have, “ME TIME!” I am a mystery to myself. Or still learning how to look after ME without the mom guilt. I am sure I will get the balance right in time to have grandkids, maybe.
“So, where do grown-ups go?” asks my fabulous lover.
“I have no idea.” I replied as I tried to fish through my baby filled mind for a grown-up location to just chill by myself and not look weird. Pub? Bar? No, I I want quiet, and relaxing. Coffee? I guess. I only have an hour or so, so I better move.
Leaving my Mr. Wonderful with screaming, crying, overtired products of love (we have 4), I head for the nearest coffee shop. Feeling good about the me time, I head into the shop, confidently order my fave, Chai Latte, and reach for my wallet.
Shut up! I scream in my head. Now, how do you confidently dig your wallet out of a diaper bag, with no baby. I can’t believe I just brought the diaper bag on a ME date. Well, WHATEV! I instantly made the decision to ROCK this diaper bag more confidently than I ordered. I picked the bag up off my shoulder and plopped it down on the counter. I am sure my actions were just screaming, “YEAH, I’m a mom, and PROUD of it! And YES I am totally BY MYSELF right now, because I have a super AWESOME LOVER who is totally watching our FOUR products of our AMAZING marriage. So, THERE!”
I paid for the yummy Chai, sat down at a table and proudly set my diaper bag on the table. What were others thinking in this crowded house of coffee, I don’t know, I actually never even thought about that until now. Who cares, this is ME time. I would like to think that this whole incident is a sign that finally, at the age of 32, I am maturing and becoming confident in who I am. About time! I raise my cup of delicious Chai, “Here’s to Me! Cheers”
