Last night I had what every stay-at-home-mom craves, a few hours out of the house with real, live, grown-up, adult-like people.
RJ and I waited patiently (Note: every time I use the word “patient” in this blog, it is an outright lie. I am not a patient person. Ever.) all afternoon for Dada to get home. RJ helped me pick out my outfit. A sweater and jeans and sneakers. But I swear that outfit has nothing to do with me being a mom. I was always fashionably hopeless and always overly casual well before RJ came along and widened my hips and feet and zapped every ounce of energy I never had. So shh.
RJ was not thrilled when Momma said bye-bye. There was much screaming and clinging. I counted to three and pulled his claws out of my arms and thrust him at Daddy E. and tried to ignore his tragically miserable screams while I ran out the door, crying, “Freedom! Freedom, at last!!!!!”
And for the record, this is the first time we’ve ever had such a scene from RJ when I leave. He usually is the first to push my butt out the door when he learns that he gets to have some quality time alone with his treasured Dada.
I took the ferry into the city. Listened to a podcast on my headphones. Basked in the aloneness of it all.
I met up with a couple of girl friends I used to work with. Neither of whom have children. And so I found I had nothing to talk about. Besides RJ. Who, I try to remind myself, no one finds even a fraction as interesting as I do. Like, um, who wants to hear the totally gross story about the case of the disappearing poo??? (Which I promise I’ll blog about soon. Get excited). No? Hmmm… ok, who wants to see pictures of RJ walking down the stairs??? No? Really? Are you sure? Ok, hmm, I’m out of ideas then. Let’s talk about you.
But still. It was nice. I managed to find a couple other topics of conversation besides my son or my desperately sad and empty womb. I swear I only mentioned RJ like… 2 or 3… or maybe 9 or 10 times. Ok, maybe 12. And I totally stopped and corrected myself mid-sentence when I announced to the table that I needed to go find “the potty”.
So, I’d say, overall, a successful night off from Mommy-hood. Let’s do it again sometime. Maybe I’ll get crazy next time and put on some ballet flats or some mascara or something.