Two whole days. For TWO whole days I got to be someone else. I got to be free of obligations. Free of baggage. Free of schedules and naptimes. Free of kids.
After a bit of arm-twisting, my parents convinced me to let Mia Girl have her first sleepover. From Sunday evening to Tuesday evening I was footloose and fancy free! And it. was. great!
Sunday evening, hubby and I were spontaneous and went to see a movie that didn't start until 8:30. I know, rebels, right? Then Monday I did a little bathing suit shopping. I saved that daunting task especially for a kid-free moment. I had some coffee and a muffin. Took a leisurely stroll through Hobby Lobby and never once had to yell at anyone not to touch glass stuff or squeeze the fake grapes. I got what I needed for a craft project and headed home for a little R&R. I popped in a chick-flick, grabbed some chocolate, and started working on my project. Then after a bit, we went to a friend's house for dinner and drinks.
Tuesday, last day of freedom: I slept in a bit but had to get up and around to volunteer at the Arts Festival in OKC. I was a little bummed that my day had to be spent volunteering but when I got there, the atmosphere sucked me in. I was surrounded by talented artists, each with their own unusual technique or medium. I met a woman who used multiple layers of tinted bee's wax blown with a torch to create depth in her pictures. One Yosemity-Sam look-alike used junk from a salvage yard to make faces. It was great! I found myself chatting with the artists and asking them about their motivation and technique. I wandered through the statues and stopped to appreciate each one of them as I listened to a local band play. Who was I??? It felt so surreal. Like my alter-ego had taken over.
I thought about all things I got to do while I was kid-free and how much I missed that sense of doing things solely for myself. But then I realized the only reason I stopped to appreciate each selfish act was because of my kids. Without them I never would have known how valuable a lone trip to the dressing is or the joy from an uninterrupted movie. So maybe I got a glimpse of the "old me" but really, the "old me" was just a less enlightened, unfinished version of who I am now.
The kids came home with gusto. Within minutes the house was full with crying and diapers and "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom!" I breathed a sigh of relief. My kids were back and things were back to "normal".