My Day Off.

I went a little psycho yesterday, a little bit cracked if you know what I mean. I think I was just a step away from those darn psycho moms you hear about every so often. Who knows what really triggers it, but suddenly I am gripping the broom with such force my knuckles are white and my jaw is clenched, screaming at Ethan to finish his last (of four, mind you) crackers with peanut butter and jelly on it or else...you know the routine. It's horrible. And in the back of my mind I am thinking, Crackers? Really? This is all for crackers?
So anyway as soon as Joey was out of the shower I told him, "Goodbye. I need time alone." And then I found my purse and I left without a second glance even though Ethan was crying, "But I wanna go with you!"
I didn't have any idea where I was going, but just to drive away felt so good.
I ended up spending lots of money because that is what I do when I crack. First stop, lunch. Got the whole meal, ate the whole bag of chips and loved every greasy, salty minute of it, and then sucked down the entire soda without one guilty thought. OK, so maybe one guilty thought. But I really enjoyed it.
Then over to Barnes and Nobles to get myself a proper journal. I have been writing in the cheapest neon green notebook you have ever seen, and I hate it. For one reason or another, even though writing is one of the most important things in the world to me, I had convinced myself that writing in that dumb journal was just a sacrifice I had to make. OH NO, not when you are a mother who has cracked. I bought the most beautiful, leather journal for a whopping twenty bucks and finally felt like myself when I wrote in it for the first time, instead of feeling like a student sitting in chemistry 101. It is interesting to see how my writing turned into my "To Do" lists in that disgusting green notebook. I can't wait to throw it away.
I didn't stop there, I also bought another journal with prompts. Sometimes these are so cheesy, but most of the time they really help to stir lost or forgotten memories.
And then on to the shoe store, where I didn't stop at one but bought two of the cutest sandals ever, and then a couple of pairs for Ethan because his shoes don't count, and what the heck, I also bought three pairs of earrings, and a ring. I was on such a roll, I decided to head over to Lowe's to look for paint samples for Ethan's new room, and the baby's nursery. And low and behold I bought two more decorating books.
I felt absolutely wonderful. New. Or old. Like before I was attached to anybody. I know it's the same old story, but it is as true as the bible: being a mom can make you feel like YOU don't exist. What replaces you is a cruel disciplinarian, a bitter housekeeper, a robot going through all the motions everyone needs you to go through to make life work.
I recently signed up on Facebook and realized how true this was in my life right now when I tried to think of "interests" and "activities" that weren't mommy related. Activities? Putting up and taking down train sets. Interests? I am interested in knowing how to make a three year old eat lunch without a melt down.
So pathetic.
I finished my "mommy day off" at Starbucks with a kid's hot chocolate, even though I really wanted my extra hot chai, but I had already passed my caffeine limited for being prego. You can't ever really escape mommy hood.
I looked at my painting books and pretended I was a designer, and that these were not my children I was picking paint for, but some other lonely mom out there who has no idea what she is doing, painting or otherwise. Then I got back in my car and drove the long drive back home.
Ethan was mad at me at first, and it hurt my feelings because I wanted to give him a hug. But he eventually gave in, and I squeezed my little boy.