Some years back, when Taylor was about three and slowly embracing the idea of sleeping in her own Big Girl bed in her own Big Girl room, we ran into a bit of trouble at bedtime. Monsters, to be specific. …
To say I watched a lot of TV as a kid is an understatement. Off the top of my head, I can tell you the real names of the two actors who played the building super on Three’s Company. I know who Jaime Sommers is. I used to have a crush on the Fonz, complete with fantasies of my own leather jacket and poodle skirt. I remember who shot J.R.
I’m going home tomorrow to be Mommy once again, chauffeuring kids to summer camp for two weeks, remembering swimsuits on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and packing bag lunches every day. It’s a bittersweet return; I’ve missed the girls, but I’m going to miss sharing literary gossip over Ethiopian food with my dozen or so new best friends. I’m going to miss days and nights which are completely my own.
While I like to think of fun and romance as the yin to the do-it-yourself yang of our relationship, Sam, practical guy that he is, puts a more practical spin on the matter. He says I’m simply getting my needs met — my need to be loved, cherished, respected, cheered on as a mother and a writer, challenged, appreciated . . . and have my oil changed and my screen door replaced.
By the time you read this column, I will have done it…or will be in the process of still doing it: Nothing. That’s it. On Sunday, June 3rd, while my children are at their father’s for the weekend, I am going to do absolutely nothing except wake up, eat and drink enough such that my blood sugar doesn’t drop, and read in bed…until I doze off and start all over again.
When Peyton asked, I replied, “No, honey. You weren’t in my tummy. You were in a different mommy’s tummy and after you were born, we brought you home to live with us.”–just as I’d rehearsed it in my head. Silently, I patted myself on the back for coming across so relaxed and cool, while my heart pounded in my chest and my mouth went dry. I hadn’t rehearsed what to say next.