It’s 8:58 pm. My time is finally my own. I literally had ten minutes today without needing to be somewhere, or without having to make a meal, clean up after a meal, wipe a nose, change a diaper, clean up a room, drive to an activity, participate in an activity, have someone on my lap, give a bath, or put a child to sleep. It’s all good. I actually had a productive, happy day. But I always fear those ten minutes. Because those ten minutes between finishing cooking dinner and Luke waking up from his nap (for instance), I am frozen.
What To Do.
Ten minutes. I wasn’t sure it was going to be ten. I thought maybe it could stretch to thirty. What should I do with those minutes? I fear thinking about it for too long and eating up those precious minutes with thought. I worry I’ll make the wrong choice and regret it later.
Shower? It had been two days since my last one, I could think of a certain someone whose name rhymes with Shtim who would have been happy with that choice. Two days though, it’s not like four days. And I definitely would be showering tomorrow since it’s Saturday and a shower two days in a row is kind of overdoing it, don’t you think?
Laundry? Everyone in the house had clean clothes except ME. I deserved a pair of clean, not ripped, not too baggy underwear. Eh, what’s one more day? Who was going to see my underwear anyway? Without a shower, not Tim.
A phonecall? I so rarely pick up the phone to chat with anyone anymore. I miss chatting. I miss the easy daily laughter with my friends. But really, there’s NEVER a good time to chat, and the risk of catching one of my friends at an inopportune time and wasting the phone call hearing a screaming child on their end, outweighed the reward of maybe possibly being able to catch up enough to feel satisfied. An email would do. Later.
Read a magazine? That would require finding a magazine.
Making a dentist, Gyn, eye doctor and physical appointment? Um, no. Just no. That would entail booking babysitters for the doctor appointments and dealing with dilated pupils, sore gums, stirrups and getting weighed. No thanks.
Ten minutes. Not enough. But just enough. To sit, kick off my fuzzy Merrells and Close My Eyes. Not enough to fall asleep like my body begs to do. But enough to refuel. I think I may have said, “Ahhhhh…” when I laid back and threw my legs up onto the couch. I got a wet lick from my dog on my nose. I got to BREATHE. Ten minutes. Do I wish it was longer? Yes, every day I do. But it’s all I got. And I’ll take it.
So, what’s ten minutes to you?