The pillows are on the couch where they belong, and the rug is lying flat, which means there are no bunkers of little green army men encamped beneath its surface. There’s not a lego in sight, no Cheerios or bits of granola litter the floor. All the stray light sabers, swords and pistols have been put away, and here I am, sitting on the sofa, living the dream: My house is clean and I’m alone.
Suddenly I’m free to sit and sip coffee, read, write, contemplate the meaning of life, go for a walk — all without building consensus, dropping my kids at a friend’s house or waiting for my partner to come home. It’s amazing to once again be the master of my daily schedule, but this freedom has come at a price.
My children left for the Grand Canyon with their dad 6 days ago, and they won’t be back for 4 more. That’s 10 long days, and while we’ve all settled into our vacations quite nicely at this point, my sons and I experienced a significant amount of separation anxiety leading up to their departure.
Evan, the youngest by 2 minutes, coped with his by sticking to me like Velcro. Every time I turned around, he was at my hip, imploring me to play a game, give a hug, do something — anything — with him. Of course, nothing I did satisfied him for long, and within minutes his nose would be pressed to mine once again demanding more attention.
Ian, in contrast, kept to himself, showing his anxiety only when asked to do something such as put on his shoes so we could go to the grocery store. It was at these moments that he would completely lose his cool and bleat, “Go to the store? But by the time we get home it will be 5 o’clock, and the day will almost be over, and on Friday we’re leaving and we won’t be back for 10 DAYS!” This began early in the week with protests against piano practice, going to the library, tying his shoes — anything that threatened to eat up his remaining moments at home — and continued right up until the moment he walked out the door.
As for me, I hardly slept all week, contemplating plane crashes and worrying about my sons’ needy behavior. And during the day I was a wreck, alternately craving their departure so I could have some peace, and dreading it, wondering how they would get by without me and vice versa.
It was an emotional goodbye when Friday finally arrived, and I spent much of the weekend out of sorts — missing them one moment, rejoicing the next, feeling guilty for enjoying my liberation from parental duties and then starting the cycle over again.
Today, though, 6 days in, I feel pretty good. I’ve embraced the solitude, the freedom, the quiet and finally relaxed enough to enjoy it. Tonight I could go to a movie, go watch a friend play guitar or just curl up with a book. Time and space are luxuries parents rarely enjoy and I’m appreciative to have them at my disposal this week.
I’m aware, however, that even as I enjoy the silence, I continue to hear my children’s voices in my head — the quiet sighs that accompany cuddles, the random “I love yous” strewn throughout the day, the laughter that makes even the worst kid movies bearable. And as much as I’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet, I know I’ll be ready to get back to the chaos come Tuesday morning.
Belinda Ray is a homeschooling mother and freelance writer who finds time to write when her children and their friends have lightsaber battles in the yoga room (but only if the laundry is already folded and everyone’s been fed).