A Moment

I found myself in an odd predicament last night.

Greg was out of town for work, and I was facing another night of single mom duty. I had just endured watching my boys go at it in their first kind-of-for-real wrestling match (in which the youngest appeared to use a baseball as a weapon), and upon the oldest's declaration that they should have more jelly beans, I scurried to the kitchen to make dinner.

I looked up from pizza making every once in awhile to text Julia about how my couch cushions were everywhere and Will was diving head first into the floor (thank you, swimming lessons, for building his confidence, but we didn't need to go this far), and how my "Reid you had BETTER NOT do that AGAIN or YOU will be in TIME OUT"s fell on deaf ears.

Then the phone rang.

It was my mom. And she said the most beautiful words:

"You know, it might just be easier for the boys to have a sleepover at our house tonight. That way we don't need to be at your house so early in the morning to get them to day care. When would you like us to come pick them up?"

A half an hour later, I gently coerced a hysterical Will into his car seat in the pouring rain (first time he's been devastated to leave me in years), and offered they should call if he doesn't calm down.

I walked back into my house to...silence.

The windows were open, and the rain was splashing the new foliage, and dog paws were click-clacking all around. A tennis ball dropped from one of their mouths. The cat purred at my feet.

But it was silent.

What would you do?

I wanted to pour myself a grande margarita and run through the house with Britney Spears music crazy loud and Elaine-style dance moves in full glory. I thought about dishing up an enormous bowl of ice cream and settling in with the Real Housewives while painting my nails Tahiti Pink. I contemplated jumping on the computer and just mindlessly surfing shopping for fun summer clothes.

But here's what I did instead.

I sat at the kitchen table and stared at the dishes, the mail, the coffee pot that needed to be filled. I looked out to the street and was cued by neighbors' driveways that I needed to get the garbage out. I turned to the family room, every light on illuminating those fallen couch cushions sprinkled with super heroes and micro machines.

I got up and walked to the family room window and sat cross-legged on the floor. I took the deepest inhale a person can take and I sighed and smiled as I closed my eyes, and I stayed.

Silent.

I literally turned my back on every single responsibility I have.

The meditation was only a few minutes, a deconstructing of my thoughts and a recognition of my stress and an allowance of feeling completely free and unburdened by the responsibilities that are generally the 24/7 of my life.

Do you know how hard that is?

I think you probably do.

Do you know how important I've decided it is to have that emotion of freedom?

Essential.

I feel like so many of us--moms and dads alike--become consumed with every role we play in the lives of others that we forget we are our own life. We forget that we are not defined by titles and responsibilities, that we have needs and not only do we need to acknowledge them, but we need to act upon them and give ourselves that care.

My need last night was a moment.

Upon standing, I left a little bit of anxiety behind for that spring evening breeze to carry away, and I continued as I would have: dishes done, garbage out, coffee made, couch put back, toys in the toy bin.

And then, well, I am human after all. I indulged.

I sure had missed Tamra and Heather and the other Orange County housewives. I wonder if they ever allow themselves time for a moment?

-Kristin