I don't like 'Alone Time,' and here's why.

As my son is approaching his fourth birthday, I find that my days at home with him are feeling longer and longer.  He's pretty much completely ditched naps except when it's totally inconvenient for me, like at 5pm when we're making a quick trip to the grocery store because we forgot something for dinner and OUT HE GOES!  He's incredibly bossy, he makes me play pretend all day (which is not fun when everything I do is wrong), he's become a master at pushing my buttons, and he has endless energy.  Literally, NONSTOP.  Constantly moving, running, jumping off furniture, chasing the dogs around the house... you name it, he's doing it.

Yesterday as I was finishing up my workday, I noticed a woman, probably in her late 20's-early 30's, sitting at a table by herself.  She ordered a sangria and a salad.  Her long, dark hair was perfectly flowing in the wind, her makeup was pristine, and her cute physique proved that she obviously works out.  She sat outside, as it was a nice afternoon, and ate her salad and drank her cocktail while scrolling through her phone and taking the occasional selfie.  I stared at her through the glass (trying not to look like a total creep) thinking "man, I would give anything for that right now."  I craved that peace and quiet.  I was jealous of the fact that she had the freedom to go to the gym regularly, the time to do her hair and makeup, no other obligation than lunch with herself, and wearing clothes that weren't stained or at least 3 years old.  I want THAT.

Fast-forward to this very moment.  I'm sitting in my living room, in complete silence.  My husband is working, my son is away for the weekend with God-sent angels who have earned "Mom mom and Pop Pop" status, and I find myself... bored.  There, I said it.  I'm BORED.  After I dropped him off this afternoon I felt this amazing sense of freedom -- "what will I do today?  Imagine all the things I can get done!"  You wanna know what really happened?  I cleaned the house, unloaded the dishwasher, mopped the floors.  Then I searched endlessly for the keys to the lawn mower which I still have yet to find.  I tried doing some work in the garden but the weed killer I bought is faulty so add that task to another day... I went out to the shed to continue looking for keys and the entire door broke off the shed, so I guess I can add fixing that to the "another day" list.  Finally I decided to rig the mower and I got it running.  I cut the grass, came inside to take a shower, and sat on the couch with a glass of wine.  Ahh, silence.  Now what?

All I can hear in my head is my son's little voice saying "wanna play legos, mama?" and I miss him.  I constantly crave this alone time, this silence, this peace.  But what I actually feel is guilt.  Not guilt for my son, I know he's in great hands and I'm a strong believer that children need a break from their parents as much as their parents need a break from them.  The guilt I'm referring to is more like this "stigma" for not getting everything done in the small amount of free-time I have.  

Let me explain:  my to-do list is endless, and it includes everything from self-care (like a pedicure or a hair appointment), to home projects, to everyday tasks (laundry, work out, etc.).  The problem with having  this alone time is that I feel completely overwhelmed trying to figure out what to do first.  Do I spend my day doing yard work and cleaning, or do I give myself a mani-pedi and throw on a mud mask?  Should I go through the pile of mail and sort out what's junk and what's important, or do I stop by the hardware store and get new light switch covers that I've been meaning to replace since we did some minor renovations?  Honestly, this alone time that I thought was going to be oh-so-marvelous is actually proving to be quite overwhelming and a bit sad.  I could have so easily called a girlfriend and got all dressed up and went out for cocktails... but NOPE.  The stigma would have followed me.  Tomorrow, when it's chilly and raining, I'd wake up thinking "I should have cut the grass yesterday."  THIS is why I don't like alone time.  I feel guilty for not getting things done, and on the flip side, I feel guilty for feeling guilty.  What kind of bullshit is that?!

I guess when I'm home with my son, no matter how tough the day gets, he's my constant reminder that everything will get done.  The grass will get mowed, the mail will get sorted... eventually.  It's like my to-do list, no matter how fast it grows, is so tiny compared to the importance of making my boy happy.  That guilt no longer exists when I know I'm fulfilling my purpose of being a mom. 

But, all the mushy mom stuff aside, I think I need to learn to prioritize a little better.  Maybe if I sat down and made a list during this alone time of what needs to be done by order of importance, then I can slowly work on each task when I have the time to do it.  By doing this, I can slowly weed through the Garden of Projects and get to a place where I don't feel quite so intimidated.  Maybe I should get on that... like now.

After another glass of wine.

Did I mention I'm also a procrastinator?

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