Did I go a little crazy? Yes.
As the primary at-home parent, my wife gets little time to herself. The woman can’t go to the bathroom without a kid intruding. So, when she’s just parked the car in the garage, steps out, and walks inside the house to set down her things—the kids still strapped in the back seat—a tiny window of personal time opens up for her. It’s all but a minute, maybe two, but it’s her moment of sanity. Her private island, albeit a sandbar the size of a dinner plate.
She doesn’t complain about not having enough personal time. Sure, she has sent me and the boys away on two-night hotel staycations, and she’s definitely ducked out at bedtime, or stayed out in town on errands much longer than she had planned, so it’s not that she doesn’t get alone time at all. I suppose her threshold for needing it is much greater than mine. You see, I’m on the road often for work. I’m at a hotel at least once a month. In short, I’m spoiled.
So what did I do when she went away for five nights out of state to work on a real estate venture? I dadded the hell up. I managed the house, the kids, drop offs, pick-ups, B-L-D, and worked my day job. Did I go a little crazy? Yes. Here’s what I did to get to my own private island in the midst of chaos. Maybe you’ll try them too when you’re 100 % on.
- Phoned a friend. By Saturday, I knew I needed to exercise. I needed to expend some physical energy. I called up my cousin to ask if she could watch the boys while I went for a swim and a hot soak. It worked wonders. There’s no shame in scheduling a babysitter.
- Stayed up past my bedtime. One of those nights, I had a full on me-evening. With the kids slumbering, I stayed up, drank a beer, and got caught up on some shows. It had been a while since I’d seen 1:30 am.
- Reclaimed a morning. I used to be the King of 5:30 am. Now my kids are, tiptoeing in around that time with a full Pullup, fresh off a bad dream. But sometimes—sometimes—they sleep until 7. They did one day that week, and 6 am to myself never felt so damn glorious.
- Fired up the Flatscreen Babysitter. I admit: I let Tayo the Little Bus play for longer than I should have one night, but darn it, I needed to cook, check some e-mails, and just check out for a bit. There’s something about anthropomorphized public transit vehicles that keeps the kids glued for a good stretch. (I know, it’s a major #parentfail. Please don’t tell our pediatrician)
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Photo by Aishath Naj on Unsplash