Time to Myself?

I tell you—what a day. It’s 7 p.m. and both kids are in bed (granted, one is talking on her plush cell phone in her crib and the other is crying from his crib for me to come back and get him—but at least they are in bed).

“Bach?” Eva asked after dinner. “No book tonight, sweetie,” I said. She didn’t press the matter. She’s all but begged me to put her to bed since 4:30 this afternoon anyway, so I’ve finally granted both of our wishes. I’m sure Vince will settle out soon. Regardless, Momma is exhausted in need of a break.

I taught Jazzercise yesterday (always an exhilarating respite) and the final song in my set was “Wonderful Tonight.” I certainly don’t feel wonderful tonight, however. I might feel marginal after a bath.

Yesterday, George delivered several thousand pounds of Dungeness crab to a local buyer and came home for the day. He asked, since he was available for the afternoon, if I’d like to run errands together or if I’d like some time to myself. To his dismay, I immediately chose Time to Myself.

I turned the children over and headed directly to my home office. I had serious work to do, and I needed to focus. So, I went down the hall, turned left into our bedroom, turned right into our closet, sat down in a wooden chair and opened up my laptop—my office.

Eva cried loudly from her bedroom on the other side of the wall, so I got out my nature sound machine and turned it full-blast on Rain. I found my favorite radio station (from Beaverton, OR) online and “clicked to listen live.” Loudly.

I got right to work—for about fifteen minutes. By then, George was at the closet door. “He seems grumpy,” he said of Vince, whom he held in his arms. “And Eva doesn’t seem to be settling down.”

What’s a mother to do?

I gave my work a quick once-over, clicked “send,” and took the baby from George.

“I’ll just get Eva up,” he said. “and take her with me.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Costco,” he said. “Maybe Best Buy. I need a new laptop.”

Ahhh, yes. Of course.

You might be wondering what important work I had to complete. I pitched an idea to The Writer Mama herself, Christina Katz. She wasn’t immediately sold. She asked me questions. “It’s tough love, sister,” she wrote. She asked me to write a paragraph on the matter. I wrote. She asked for a re-write. I re-wrote. I waited. Then, finally, good news.

I like it. You did well.”

It was the green light to continue. (Continue to what? Of course, I can’t tell. Like all good commercial fishermen and their families, I’m superstitious.)

In a special note tonight, I want to thank everyone for their views of this blog during the past week. The last few days shattered all previous Highliners and Homecomings viewing records, and it was exciting to monitor. I don’t know where, or from whom, all the hits are coming from, but it’s been touching. So, thank you very much, and as always, feel free to leave your comments.


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