I spent several days alone at the end of the summer. Greg has been traveling with his new job, but that leaves me playing single Mom-- more work, but less dinner planning. But in August, I found myself sans kids for the first time in 8 years. That kind of freedom is something I have often longed for, that former self, especially when my babies were colicky. But after the initial quiet, and a little extra sleep, I was somewhat at a loss. Sure, I could read, but I read compulsively, daily with or without kids. I treated myself to a movie, went for walks. Over the first weekend alone, I sat in quiet. Motherhood has provided a template for my daily round, and like it or not, I have grown accustom to the frantic demands of raising a family. It was hard for me to just be still and calm. I guess while I have been clamoring for a little 'peace and quiet', I have constructed a world that leaves room for neither. It was uncomfortable.
Soon my family came home, and I was thrilled to see them. I felt a bit more patient; a little kinder. I could hear my own thoughts. I felt more deliberate, more centered.
I am still impatient with the quiet at times, now that both kids are gone half the day. But I could get used to it.