I feel a little disoriented. Get this: the house is clean. REALLY clean. (I know; I spent 10 hours cleaning it on Thursday.) (I bet anyone who has ever been to my house didn't know that there was enough house on which to spend 10 hours, but trust me, there is and I did.) And now.....two days later....it is STILL CLEAN.
Let me explain. My sweet husband has started to notice recently a strange glaze to my eyes, a little nervous twitch developing here and there, and that my brain seems to be distancing itself from reality just a bit. Okay, a lot these days. He noticed that I might need a break. And instead of sending me off to some hotel or something, he instead left me where I really wanted to be: home. And he took our darling kids off to visit the Southern Cousins for a few days.
I don't quite know what to do! I am so....relaxed. I think that's the word. I miss them quite a lot, and saying goodbye to them was harder than I was expecting. But....I'm alone. And I don't know quite what to do with myself. I have gone for long walks, eaten lunch with a friend, seen a mediocre chick flick with The Becky, quilted for the first time in literally a decade, listened to loud music, and even done some writing. It has been a wonderful gift from my husband and you should know that he is the best. Ever.
I do wonder, though, if it would be possible to enjoy a weekend like this totally free from guilt. In a casual survey I conducted over the weekend every mom I talked to said definitely not. For some reason we are not able to want something really bad, get it, and then not feel guilty about it. So I will just go ahead and feel a little guilty but indulge anyway.
Okay, the truth is that three nights have been just wonderful enough. And I have now discovered that if I were ever forced to live alone permanently it would take exactly 2 1/2 days for me to begin talking to myself. As glorious as it has been to keep a house clean for several days in a row and stay up late reading brain candy books, I am ready for my arms to be around my sweet soft little family. Sorry, Troy, I didn't mean you. You are not soft, you are very muscled and firm. And I also can't wait to put my arms around you.