On Saturday, I waited until the baby had woken up from his nap and nursed, and then I escaped the house.  I said I was going to Target (and I did, we needed … washcloths and a photo album … it was a really important trip), but then I took myself out for coffee to work on writing for a while.  I said I would be home in three hours and ended up going back early, because I was afraid it was getting too late.

That was a really stupid move.

I should know by now that an S.O.S. text is the only thing that can make me go back.  I should wait for it, every time. Like the last time I tried to go out for a drink with some adult humans: I went home after getting the “are you on your way yet?” text and when I got there, everyone was awake, waiting for me to put them back to bed.  That was it, I had stayed out too late.  At the time, I felt bad, but now when I think back on it, nope.  Gone are the days when I could drop one kid off at school and then bundle the other one into a sling while I walked down the street to the cafe. Today, the baby didn’t even take two naps. Which might not sound like a big deal, but it meant that instead of getting to do two things for myself today, I got to do one.  I had to chose between drinking a glass of water and putting a barrette in my hair.

All told, I got to spend about an hour working on my project at the coffee shop on Saturday.  In that time, my coffee had time to cool enough so I could drink it.  And I drank enough of it to make room for enough cream.  And then I spent twenty minutes watching a guy play with his dog on the patio.  Maybe I went home because there was nothing else to do.  Maybe my mind has shrunk to the size of my world.  I wrote out thirty lines of text and maybe that was all I had inside me.

Ok, wow, that is depressing to write out like that.  But twenty minutes of writing, even while staring at the dog and his frisbee, was worth more than twenty hours of trying to work on anything at home.  Where someone is always stabbing me in the thigh with his fingers going, “Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Look at me, Mommy. Mommy. Mommy.”

1 Comment

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One response to “Escape!

  1. Christa

    Hooray for escape! Next step: regularly scheduled escape. That’s when your brain will kick in and you practically hear the gears clunking into place: “I recognize coffee shop. I write at coffee shop. GO!”

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