Home Alone

It has been at least 768 days since I have been home alone.  I don't know what made me think about this, but the other night, I realized that since the girls were born I have not spent any time alone in our house.  I'm not sure if that is normal or completely crazy. . . I'm leaning towards crazy.  Mate is fully capable of taking the girls somewhere on his own, so I guess the opportunity has just never presented itself.  When I told Mate about my sudden realization, he was more than willing to arrange some alone time for me, but I'm not even sure what I would do if I had the whole house to myself.  I can't even remember what that is like.  Sure, when the girls nap, I have time to myself, but it's hard to get anything done because the girls sleep with their door open.  Making noise is out of the question.  Plus, after about an hour, Ava wakes up and sleeps on the couch.  I have to stay with her or she won't go back to sleep.  I'm not complaining; I realize the couch isn't the worst place to be stuck.

For now, I'm guessing 768 will turn into 769, 770, 771. . . and I'm okay with that.  I'm okay with that because there are no set plans for my return to work after all the kids are in school.  See, as a stay-at-home mom, you never have a day off, which means I've been banking a whole lot of overtime.  Can you imagine how much I'll have accumulated by the time baby #3 gets to kindergarten?  If I got paid for all those extra hours, I'd probably be able to retire.  Since that's not the reality of my job, I'll settle for alone time during school day hours.  That will be nice.  Okay, I'll probably spend that time volunteering at the school, running errands, and scrubbing stains out of clothing, but that sounds nice, too.     

Can't even remember life without my hands full