Yesterday, Atticus took all three children out for the day. The whole day. The entire day. As in, “I didn’t fix lunch or dinner for anyone and I ate Chinese takeout from the box” kind of day. This is also known as Mommy’s Christmas Present.

Now, before I’m accused of being one of those selfish, 21st-Century-Gotta-Take-Care-of-Me-First moms, I want to make it clear that I love being with my children. I do. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t homeschool them. I adore them and I adore being with them. I love them to pieces, distraction, etc. (sorry — stolen quote from Franny and Zooey, for those of you on the plagiarism watch, which I’m alert to, since Atticus just finished grading term papers ….)

But, I do enjoy — occasionally need — revel in, a little bit of time to myself. This was more than just “a little bit” of time to myself, though. This was a positively decadent amount of time to myself during which I:

~ enjoyed a shower without anyone flinging the shower door open to say, “Mom! I played the game she wanted, but now she won’t play the game I want!” (This after having passed by their father who’s available to settle a squabble but who will always be overlooked because Mom is the first squabble-settler they seek, regardless of whether or not she is standing in the shower with soap all over her face.)

~ was certain I heard footsteps upstairs while I was in the shower

~ spent a short amount of time paralyzed by my choices

~ drank coffee. Lots of coffee. Had some more coffee. And every cup was hot.

~ worked on an article I’ve been wanting to revise for months

~ talked to a faraway friend on the phone without anyone saying, “What? What? Why did you laugh?”

~ read. Pondered. Read. Prayed.

~ ate Christmas candy and didn’t share a bite of it with anyone (which if okay, since they got ridiculous amounts of candy in their stockings)

~ decluttered a part of the family room that had been overtaken by kid stuff that was screaming to be bagged up and thrown out

~played on the computer, surfing further than I usually do, because nothing else was in need of my attention (except the decluttering, the article to revise ….)

~ drank Chocolate Chai (sent by dear, above-mentioned faraway friend) which stayed hot, too

~ worried when my family wasn’t home at the expected time, and thought about how my life would come to a screeching, horrifying halt if they’d been in a fatal accident … my whole life, in one van ….

~ rejoiced when they walked in the door, hugged them incredibly tightly, and told them that I loved them enormously, missed them, and I hoped they’d had as dandy a day as I did. And you know what? They had.