I am coming off a blissful, slightly indulgent 11-day spring break. My break did not align with NR's this year, which meant it also did not align with the kiddies. And while I was extremely jealous that he got to spend a whole week at home with them, I guiltily admit that I loved, Loved, LOVED having so much time to myself.
The first half was a whirlwind of "ohmigodthekidsarenthomewhatallcanigetdone?" Allow me to take stock of what I got done--if for no other reason to see it in print and congratulate myself:
1) Cleaning. While we have broken down and hired (gulp) a cleaning woman to help us out once a month, our very small house gets dirty in about three seconds. Legos, crumbs, and half-eaten doggie chews seem to self-reproduce overnight. And it must be the Irishwoman in me that gets a sick pleasure out of snapping on the rubber gloves and furiously attacking the toilet.
2) Readying the house for Easter. I get that annoying "Family Fun" magazine each month, which crows about "ridiculously easy!" crafts and goodies that require an engineering degree and certificate from Le Cordon Bleu to execute successfully. So when the holidays approach, I am elated if I can at least throw up a new (ready-made) wreath on the door, change the garden flag, and scatter some cheesy crap on the mantel. This year, I was bound and determined to put up some damn paper Easter eggs in the window. You know, the kind every teacher usually hangs up? Well, they are nowhere to be found these days. NR kindly tracked down some spring-related window clings for me...meekly apologizing that they weren't exactly "Easter". Whatever. I got the baskets ready which, truth be told, were probably 60% for the children and 40% for NR and I to devour after they go to bed.
3) Grading for two days straight. Like, from 9 a.m.-4 p.m., x2. Take THAT, jerks who smugly surmise "how NICE it must be to get ALL THOSE DAYS OFF."
4) Editing my wardrobe. After 2 pregnancies, I had clothes in 3 different sizes and still a few maternity items floating around. Not to mention questionable purchases of old, such as the size 14 jeans I bought in a weepy, sleep-deprived haze from the Jersey City Target 2 weeks after birthing TJ, because "well that's JUST how my body LOOKS now, I GUESS!!!", and a funkadelic retro turtleneck that used to be my "paaarty" shirt...in college...fourteen years ago. I managed to cull 3 trash bags worth of stuff. You're welcome, Purple Heart.
5) Braving the crickets and cleaning out the basement. Bad mommy threw out 2 bags of toys. Nope, did not donate. Nope, did not post on Freecycle. Threw. Out. I doubt very much that even the neediest child would have any use for an armless Green Lantern procured from a Happy Meal 3 years ago.
Once that was said and done, I got to "do me" (isn't that what the kids are saying these days? Or at least the Kardashian Banshees?). I got my haircut. Got a FACIAL. Did some shopping. Baked 2 loaves of banana bread. Took a yoga class.
But best of all, I got to really revel in being a mommy. Because I was rested, focused, and recharged, I had the energy each night to play with them, read a million stories, and ENJOY the bedtime routines (instead of rushing through them because of the work hanging over my head, or the exhaustion/stress I'm battling.)
There are numerous blogs being posted all over FB--mommy confessionals, I guess you would call them--about what a bad job they think they're doing, and how they're trying to be okay with that. So I guess this is confessional too, of a sort. I got to stay home for a week and take care of myself and my home. But dammit if that didn't recharge my mommy batteries as well.
