I don’t normally like to be alone. I’ve been that way as long as I can remember. It’s made for some whiny and desperate moments that made boyfriends run and girlfriends sigh. But as any mother knows, having kids changes everything.
This weekend, my husband’s family was having a birthday party at a cottage two hours away. The first three hours of the party were titled “Sportsmania.” I am so not a sportsmaniac — plus, I woke up with pain in my back that would make two hours in a car (and three hours of playing sports) total misery.
So in an unusual move because I love my husband’s family, I opted out. In the middle of a sunny holiday weekend packed with barbeques and parties, I chose complete solitude.
After I shook off the guilt, I spent the afternoon in my garden. I planted herbs, I pulled weeds, I filled my patios pots with flowers we can’t afford. I took my time making a gorgeous salad and a pitcher of mint iced-tea for lunch.
Then I suited-up in my iPod and sunscreen and got back out to the sunshine to pull more dandelions. Strangely, the dandelions did not make me hate the world like they usually do.
When it was time for dinner, I grilled some salmon and ripped open a bag of salad and sat in front of the TV. My neighbor, who knew I was home alone, invited me over for a glass of wine. I declined. I was having too much fun.
After dinner, I walked to the movie store and noticed little flowers popping up everywhere. In the summer, JCrewville can seduce even the most urban cynic of small-town living. It’s one check on the plus side of living here.
At the movie store, I got the biggest, most shameful chick-movie I could find (“Bride Wars”). It was pure cheese, but that’s okay. Tonight, I answer to no one. While I was watching it, I sat in my pj’s and painted my toenails bright red.
Before bed, I called my family. Sportsmania and an abundance of brownies had my girls completely wiped out. Their voices sounded so little on the phone. They were weepy. “We miss you Mommy.” Selfishly, it made for the most incredible ending to the most perfect day.
I slept fitfully. Despite having all the covers to myself, it was kind-of creepy sleeping alone in the house. This morning I brewed an extra huge pot of coffee, made myself a vegggie omlette and ate it while lingering over the paper. Maybe I’ll take a nap before they get home — that is, if I can get over my giddiness.
I should get back to the garden, but I decided to stop here first (because I can!) and comment that sometimes being alone is a beautiful thing.
Small Town. Small Times. 
I totally understand. Great pictures!
I know you – of anyone – do.
I love being alone. Given the opportunity, I would spend far, far too much time alone until I suddenly realized that I hadn’t talked to another person in a week. (It has happened. Well, not a week, but several days.) Giving up that alone time has really been the biggest parenting sacrifice I’ve made. Some days I daydream about what my life will be like when I’m able to carve out more than five minutes a day to myself.
Wow – before kids, several days without talking to someone would have put me over the edge. Even when my kids were little, I found myself striking up conversations with any cashier/bagger/waitress/salesperson I could find just to have contact with an adult. Now that they’re older, I too, dream of days alone. If only I had known you in my twenties. I could’ve gotten tips on how to be alone and saved myself some embarrassingly desperate moments.
Embrace the quiet. Embrace the crazy. I’ve learned to enjoy both because they can change in a blink here at my house. Did you take those beautiful pictures?
Yes, I’m trying to be better at embracing it all. I did take the pictures. Allison @ That’s what she Blogged suggested I take some pictures and I did. It was really enjoyable, though the neighbors think I’m nuts for crawling around on the ground (I think they knew that anyway).
I just caught up on your most recent entries, and this one hit me. Your time alone sounds wonderful! I’m envious. Sounds like a perfect time. I think you should hurt your back again next year. (Funny, though, how working and bending over flowers and pots -by yourself- seemed pretty therapeutic for it. :))
Ah yes – the back is always better when I’m alone 🙂
Actually, the truth is I have fibromyalgia and the pain is unpredictable. Sometimes it helps to rest and sometimes it helps to be active, but it never gets better when I sit in a car for hours. As it was, I took lots of breaks which was decadent. It was a spectacular day (sigh).