Thank you for my wonderful, wonderful family. Love them all to bits. Would run into a burning building to rescue them. But sometimes, I must confess, I pray for a bit of alone time (and by ‘alone time’ I mean time spent by myself when I AM NOT shopping for items they require, folding laundry, or cooking food in giant, institutional-sized pots).
And so, dear God, I must confess to cheating just a bit…
- I confess to moaning about having to go back to work after dinner when I am really just watching Netflix on the laptop in my office
- I confess to deliberately signing multiple kids up for back-to-back voice lessons and making hubby be the chauffeur, just so I could have two full hours alone in the living room every Tuesday
- I confess to pretending to run out of things just so I can go to the drug store by myself on the occasional evening… and I confess to dawdling in the magazine aisle… and I confess to always blaming the cashier when I arrive back home an hour later (note: she is a lovely woman with her own troubles and I should not imply that she is incompetent in any way)
- I confess to faking a zillion headaches over the years so that I didn’t have to go on a zillion different field trips, at least half of which seem to involve looking at the animal poop collection in the Museum of Natural History
- I confess to putting my youngest in the school lunch program (which she hates) on Mondays, just so I could take a yoga class… and I confess to skipping yoga and instead drinking iced coffee at Starbucks for an hour while reading trashy magazines
- I confess to ‘twisting’ my ankle on the first day of our annual family ski holiday, every year, so that I can just hang out in the lodge drinking hot toddies (totally worth having to fake a limp for 7 days)
I confess to telling white lies and slightly darker lies and sometimes relatively black lies in my pursuit of quiet isolation. And I confess to knowing that I will do these things again because sometimes ‘alone time’ is worth a bit of cheating.