My mom picked JD up from school and took him to the Jersey Shore at 2 PM yesterday. I am venturing to the shore tonight or tomorrow morning depending on work to celebrate the 4th and see the fireworks in Asbury Park, NJ. It was a very, very strange feeling not to have to rush to finish my work or email it to myself so I could finish it at home. I stayed a lil later and worked. Then I went to a Happy Hour with my two girlfriends from the office—another strange adventure. People in work clothes were drinking and eating passed appetizers. Guys had their ties loosened around their necks. The ladies room had a little basket filled with mints, deodorant spray, hair spray, tampons and peach lotion.
It’s not like I haven’t been to a Happy Hour since giving birth, but when you don’t have to rush, rush, rush home to relieve a sitter, it’s a different ball game. I sipped my drink with ease and ate some nibbles. I chatted with my girls about life and not Kindergarten. As the Happy Hour neared its end I started to feel anxious, though and I knew why.
I would now have to return home to my empty condo. JD’s Legos would be all over the floor. His milk cup would be next to my coffee cup in the sink where I left them—where I always leave them. JD wouldn’t come rushing to the door, yelling, “MOM-MEEEEEEEE!!” I would have no one to bathe and my hands wouldn’t smell like JD’s shampoo and be wrinkly and soft. There would be no one to read to, talk to, cuddle with and tuck in. Whah, I couldn’t take it. It was still light out. I texted a friend and met him at a bar close to my condo. See, the grass isn’t always greener. I had another drink. We chilled. I prolonged. It was obvious. Then I made him sleepover because I was freaked out about staying alone in my condo and not because I was scared someone was going to break in and murder me—hell, I’m the almighty protector 24/7, but because I didn’t want to be alone-alone, even though earlier in the day I was super excited about it. I missed my little guy and I’m used to my little guy. And being alone is fun, important and something I openly, admittedly enjoy sometimes (actually a lot of the time), but “my alone” is when my son is safe at school or sound asleep in his own bed. When he’s not around, it’s weird. It was also weird making my friend coffee this morning and not nuking mini pancakes and searching for a size 12 sneaker. Strange, strange life I lead.
Single parents of only kiddos, feel me? Ever feel lost without your lil sidekick?
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