Time to Myself? What?

I had an interesting experience this past weekend.

My parents kidnapped my two boys. FireDad had to teach an afternoon to late night fire class on Saturday and then his normal shift day was on Sunday. This left me with… time to myself. What? What’s that all about?

After he left on Saturday afternoon, the house became eerily quiet. I was busy reading a book and found myself unable to concentrate due to the sheer volume of the sound of silence. I had to turn on the Sirius Satellite Radio in order to hear myself think again. I make jokes about the noise level of our house (it’s quite, uh, loud) but I never realized that the noise helps me function.

So, what did I do with a weekend to myself?

1. I cleaned the heck out of the house. Oh yeah!
2. I finished reading the fourth book in a horrible series. More on that later this week.
3. I played with my new laptop. Again, more on that later this week.
4. I kept trying to check on the boys in their rooms but they weren’t there.
5. I caught up on laundry.
6. I started another cheesy book.
7. I sat outside in my yard.
8. I went to a yard sale without children where I scored a (second) Buzz Lightyear costume… for free.
9. I went to the toy store without children, escaping for only $1.99!
10. I had eggs and toast for breakfast!
11. I woke up at 7:01 am despite the lack of BigBrother provided alarm clock.
12. I sat. Quietly. A lot.

And, really, I wondered what I would do if I didn’t have children. I tried to imagine myself, at one point, as if FireDad and I had never added the boys to our family. As if he was just gone for the weekend and I was just home alone and two noisy, wonderful boys weren’t missing. As if the two other bedrooms were guest rooms or my office or a craft room (pfft, no way) and that this was simply what I did with a weekend alone. Cleaning and reading and eating eggs all by my lonesome.

I decided I liked motherhood much better than the silent alternative.

Don’t get me wrong. I love that my house is clean. I loved cooking eggs for myself without someone clutching my leg yelling, “OH-MEEEEEEAL!” I loved being able to go back to sleep after I sat straight up in my bed at 7:01am because I didn’t have to tend to someone else’s needs. But I also missed the noise. I missed playing flippity-flip (frisbee) in the yard. I missed chasing them down the hallway to get ready for bath time. I missed reading their nightly stories, saying their nightly prayer and hearing what they were thankful for that day. I missed being lasered by BigBrother’s laser and hearing LittleBrother’s copycat sound. I missed the laughter. And maybe even the tears. Maybe not the whining though.

I was meant to be a mother. It’s not that I can’t enjoy time to myself. It’s that I prefer to surround myself with their love, their energy and even their non-stop noise. I’m not going to say no if any set of grandparents wants to kidnap them again, of course. But I do love having them at home…

…even if they undid my weekend of cleaning in less than the span of one morning.