Home Alone

Child-free moments are rare in my life, which is why, when my wonderful mother-in-law called and asked to have all three of her grandmonsters, I mean, grandchildren, over for FIVE days, at first I thought I was dreaming. 

  

 “All of them- are you sure?” I asked. “Oh yes,” she replied. “We are dying to have them over before school starts back.” I silently did a spirited happy dance and accidentally slung the phone across the room where it fortunately landed on the couch. Snatching it up, I did my best to sound cool and calm; collective was just too much of a stretch. “Why sure, I think…are you sure?” I stammered before regaining control. “I mean, that will be fine, they don’t have a thing going on,” I said as angelically as possible. Hanging up the phone, a world of possibilities flew through my mind. What would I do with this free time? Should I perhaps run out and purchase some bonbons?

The Button-Pusher.

Whatever I did, I knew it would certainly involve some serious peace and quiet. I love my children dearly, but they don’t share my same appreciation for serenity. My youngest brother Joel and his wife, Leah, have the most adorable and quietest toddler you’ve ever seen. And she even eats her vegetables. Not. My. Kids. The younger girls spend their days arguing, whining, sneaking, and button-pushing. My teenaged son likes riding his dirt bike until dark. The sight of broccoli sends all of them into fits of retching.  I am, as it were, charged with harnessing and directing the incredible passion, energy and smarts of three adorable red-heads. Quiet time just doesn’t fit into the equation.  I wouldn’t change it for the world, but a reprieve is assuredly welcome.

                 

She picked them up last Saturday afternoon, and they were thrilled to go. Later that evening my husband Kerry and I enjoyed a family dinner with all of my brothers, their families and my parents. I ate without cleaning up any spills. I played badminton without the girls systematically stealing all of the birdies and hiding them in a “secret nest.” I even managed to get in a game of cards.  This was the life.

We accidentally slept in until noon the next day. As much as we wanted to do something exciting, we just bummed around and watched movies. We sat on the porch and enjoyed the sunshine and the sounds of birds chirping. We ate left-overs. A day of sheer relaxation was apparently just what the doctor ordered. And it didn’t cost us a thing.

                

Later that evening, I began to miss the kids. Sure they are exhausting, but deep, deep, really deep down I missed the mud-pies and paint splatters. After all, the arguing and whining were always interwoven with giggles and lively conversations. I missed Cameron raiding the cabinets with the voracious appetite of a teenager, telling me all the while about new comics and the latest funny videos on YouTube. Even our dog, who spends a considerable amount of energy trying to escape “dress-up time” with the girls, seemed sad as she trotted in and out of their empty room.

                 

While I  thoroughly enjoyed my remaining days of peace and quiet, I was equally excited to be rejuvenated for the kiddos when they returned. God knew I would need the extra energy to answer the many, many, many calls for “mom” until the next break presented itself. I hope this post inspires you to recharge and enjoy some quiet time every now and then. Happy unwinding!

This post was originally published in my column, "The Upside of Downsizing" in the Ellijay Times-Courier on  July 25, 2012.