Saturday, July 7, 2012


Yesterday I spent the day going through this.

I know when I'm more sensitive. And I know my eyes and ears find themselves on overload.

My temper... temperament? How I react, respond to my daughter - it changes as the clock ticks.

My husband got home. Saw her on high-speed. He knew. He looked at me and knew.

I took ten minutes to myself. I figured that would be enough.

It could have been.

But she kept on going.

That sweet little smile. That voice. It ran and ran and ran.

SHE ran and ran and ran.

I convinced my husband it would be okay for him to take her to pick up McDonald's. I don't eat McDonald's, but a drive-thru experience seemed like the best option.

He watched. Took it in.

Should I take her to play? he asked. Knowing. Feeling it. Knowing the time it would give me on my own. And the moments he'd have while being the parent whose child played. Some semblance of silence for him, too, as he would watch her make friends.

You could, I replied.

My voice drenched in longing.

Please. I thought. Please take her. Even for a few minutes. It would be so quiet. So nice. For just a few minutes.

And he did. He took her.



I ate leftovers for dinner.

I worked out to the Wii fit disc I was finally able to focus on finding.

A half hour of walking. Marching. Moving. I moved. Broke a slight sweat.

And when I was done I felt a little anxious.

What was taking them so long? Why weren't they home yet?

I shook those thoughts off and went upstairs.

I took a shower without small shouts from the outside.

I came back downstairs and actually watched some TV.

I had a little bit of time, just for me.

I was free. If only for a little while.

And I enjoyed. I savored. I lived every moment of it.

And it was okay.

And later on, in the night, I washed my daughter's hair. I dried it.

I took deep breaths when she splashed water all over the mirror and sink.

I gave her some snuggles. I held her hand.

All a bit sweeter because I had tasted some freedom a few hours before.

Sometimes that's all it really takes.


  1. I'm so glad you got the time you needed. We all deserve these breaks - honestly, I couldn't survive without them. It can become so overwhelming, so quickly. Beautifully written Andrea!

  2. Nice. Self care is very underrated. Even more so for parents I think. Great take on freedom.

  3. Sometimes that is all I need - just an hour or two by myself.

  4. Get out of my head.

    Thank goodness for SOs who get it and are willing to assist.


  5. Oh, wow. You're bringing back memories of mine when they were in kindergarten... one day, it dawned on me that it wasn't the constant banter between them, or even the volume, but the pitch of their voices that drove me batty after too many days in a row alone... We spent about _two months_ practicing how to 'mellow' our voices (pick a book or tv character with a deep voice to mimic). I *still* don't understand how folks with squealy tweens don't go absolutely nuts. LOL

  6. I tell my kids, it makes me a better mom when I have time away!

  7. I loved your take on this prompt. I just talked to a friend of mine about taking just a little bit of time for herself to recharge.

  8. I'm glad that he knows you well enough to recognize when you need a break and give it to you AND that you are wise enough to appreciate it!

  9. That sounds heavenly. Quiet. Peace. Right with you, girl. Hugs.

  10. I'm so glad you had that time to yourself. That hubby of your is a GEM! :)

  11. Those hours can be the absolute best sometimes. Time alone... time to do what you want... time to do what you need.... time to be just you!

  12. THose precious times to ourselves is sometimes all we need to tackle motherhood again.
    Big hugs.

  13. And freedom lingers. Hopefully long enough for you to last a few days. :)

  14. I'm having one of those afternoons. Hubby took the kids to Costco, and then to the lake. I am here, watching The West Wing and trying to write an essay. Not getting far. I need to find more time for self care. I let everyone come first around here, and let my well run dry.


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