1-800-MOMMY

"Mom! Dial this number in the next 3 minutes!" My youngest slams a notebook on my desk with a big red 1-800 number written on it. "We need Proactiv!"..."Honey, Proactiv is for zits, and you don't have any." She's jumping in and out of my lap giving me long, draggy, yet energy-filled hugs (musta been the quart of strawberries). "But you have wrinkles, and it'll make our skin smooooooooth." And she's off again. My kids love to write down infomercial numbers. Vacation weeks are the busiest seasons for this, as they see them all on rainy or extra-snowy days, while I sit at my desk and transcribe pathology reports (yeah, if you've had it surgically removed, passed it out of (or got it stuck in) one orifice or another, or traumatically chopped it off, I'm probably the gal that typed the down and dirty of it). The infomercial numbers the girls have scrawled down for me are for (to name a few) the gadget that cooks mini burgers, the giant cupcake cake pan, and the running favorite - the automatic toothpaste squirter. All must-haves, I couldn't agree more. I just keep forgetting to call within the allotted time.

My kids make me laugh on a daily basis, and it's probably not the stuff I'm supposed to laugh about; but whether they are happy, crying because of some ridiculous thing they did to themselves ("I bit my finger!"), or arguing with me...they are just so brimming with life that I just can't help feel joy about it. I love being a mom. Ask me again in the next 5 minutes ("I said GET INTO BED!")

But seriously, even the most sincere of us enjoy a moment of solitude now and again. We work full time, we take care of EVERYTHING in the house - the kids, the cooking, the cleaning...I'm talking 100%. We are the housewives of the 1950s rolled in with the career women of the new millennium. I'm not alone, right?....Hello? (are those peepers I hear?)...Tell me I'm not alone! OK, I've heard tell my family is spoiled, or at least the husband...my fault, from back in the day when I actually had TIME to do everything, when it was just him and me...but I'm trying desperately to reverse the spoilage, with little to no avail. I get a lot of flack from my femi-rights-loving friends. To his credit, hubby does do a lot with the girls. And if he wants to get them out of my hair instead of doing dishes, I guess I can live with that. For instance, tomorrow night the three of them are going to our family camp up north for the night. They go fishing, play cards, play in the fire, and eat garbage that I won't let them eat at home. They take these weekend excursions pretty frequently during the summers, as I have to work Saturday mornings and also take care of the occasional extra-needy flock at home. But this is the first time this season, and I'm thinking it's a pretty good start to Mother's Day weekend!

I just got back from a hurried bout of grocery shopping, and I'm all geared up for my night alone:
* My first indulgence to be slowly savoured...A Ghirardelli Midnight Reverie 86% cacao bar. I'm really not a chocolate girl, but on occasion the mood does strike.
* Indulgence #2...The latest issue of Cosmopolitan magazine. Seriously I haven't bought a Cosmo since like 199...4-ish? But I couldn't resist because there on the cover in all her sultry badass glory - my girl, Pink! Of course there were also the usual article titles in big boxy print: "75 Sex Tips from Guys"..."Girl Traits No Man Can Resist"...and most interesting, "Orgasm Guaranteed." But I bought it for the Pink interview...(really, Mom, I did...no, now, don't cry...save that for dog and grampa stories).
* And lastly...An unopened Netflix movie that's been hanging around for at least 2 weeks, probably 3.

Back at the present-time ranch, my daughters are finally tucked in for the night...but not before Mae tells me in a little sad voice her latest "why I'm scared." Tonight, it's windy, and a tree might fall on the house. When rational reasoning runs low, I give the "it's all good, now go to sleep" statement in my best mommy baritone. Keeg was tucked in but comes out to ask me where her appendix is because she has "a pain right here" (nowhere even neighboring the appendix) and reminds me to put dinner away...you just KNOW what she's going to grow up to be...

So...so what if tomorrow night I limit myself to only a square or two of the dark chocolate because I can't fit into any of my summer clothes...and so what if one or both cats end up curled in my lap on top of the Cosmo so that I can't browse more than the first 5 pages (who needs all that climaxing anyway, am I right? After all, isn't that the sort of thing that brought on all this mommy business in the first place? *sigh*)...and so what if I fall asleep 26 minutes into the movie because the plot is poor and my weekday schedule just doesn't allow me the energy to stay up beyond 9 PM when Friday night rolls around? It's really just the notion of peace and quiet, isn't it? And quite honestly when I watch their taillights as they head down the driveway tomorrow, I'm sure to feel the inevitable emptiness that moms and wives feel when what we live for every moment of every day is not within our nurturing grasp, and I'll wish I had a 1-800 number to call them back home.

Yeah, OK...check with me again in 5 minutes.