I’m not at that big conference this weekend. You know, the one everyone and their mother is talking about. The one that rhymes with Snogfur.
Jealous? Who, me?
I did some lite reading of posts of people who are there—I’m masochistic like that—and there seemed to be a reoccurring theme. Something along the lines of The-kids-are-home-alone-with-Dad-I’m-kind-of-freaking-out-OMG-I’m-on-my-own-in-NYC-yip-fucking-yeeeeeeee.
Something like that.
And it’s funny because there was a nagging question intermingled with my jealousy which was, When was the last time you were away all by yourself, Mrs. Mullet?
Funny because I’m sitting here right now all by myself in my house. Chuck spent last night at his mom’s with Junior so they could get some QT with Grandma (and her pool). I was supposed to head down after work.
I never made it.
See, as my work day yesterday was winding down, I started picturing my empty house. The more I thought about it, the more enticing it became. By the time five o’clock rolled around, I was worried I was going to start humping the copy machine I was so excited by the prospect of having an empty house all to myself.
Me. All by myself. I could do whatever I wanted. I could do nothing or everything. I had to seize the opportunity.
Walking in my front door was like meeting a lover.
“Are we really alone?” Giggle, giggle. "Really?"
The house was deliciously silent. I yanked off my stiff work clothes and put on a pair of Chuck’s underwear. I pulled down the shades. I drank a non-alcoholic beer and watched smutty TV.
Then, as I was sitting there amidst all the debauchery, something wonderful happened. I happened to look down at my large baby bump and I said, “Hello.” I realized it’s the first time I’ve really spoken to my bump. I’m five months pregnant now and I hadn’t slowed once to actually acknowledge the child that’s growing inside of me. I hadn't once said, "Hey, I'm happy you're here. You're a gift."
Of course, that made me cry because I suddenly understood the beautiful importance of having time to yourself, not to paint your stupid nails or drink Smoothies or read frilly magazines, but to climb down off the ride and take a minute to assess and appreciate your life.
So, wow. A whole rainbow of epiphanies on my couch, and no one was there to witness it.
Anyway, Chuck and Junior are on their way home now. There are a million things I still want to do, which means I’ll probably do nothing at all. Well, there are those two non-alcoholic beers in the fridge…
P.S. Chuck’s really excited about having another boy (yes, the Go-Go doctor was right after all). I am too.