Sometimes You Just Gotta Hide

having young kids that tear through the house, rummaging through cabinets, screaming and constantly antagonizing each other is not exactly zen-inspiring. it makes me cry and regret ever- while in the throes of my prime dating years, being hung up on ‘finding the ONE’ and ‘having babies’. back when i was hotter, less sun damaged, slimmer and fucking free and able to eat jar of dulce de leche and smoke two joints for dinner alongside my gaggle of friends (ex-male models surfers, coke snorting attorneys, lesbians and odd german birds) that all lived in our happy melrose place apartment complex. it really was a glorious time.

i digress.

so my secret trick to dealing with my new mommy life (well, 8 years into it) is to sometimes just fucking hide to get some me-time.

the other day after hours of non stop screaming and demands from my crazy boys, i snuck away and hid in my walk-in-closet. i had a crazy day with the two of them. i was in the middle of a nasty cold and after a crazy month of family emergencies coming to a close- i just needed a fucking nell carter style break- alone.

my youngest one, had been antagonizing the shit out of the older one- was suddenly defeated. i heard a slamming door and then wailing tears. he started calling my name searching for me. in the kitchen, the living room, his bedroom, the den, my bedroom. he must have repeated my name twenty times. and the whole time i sat quiet in my closet. kinda feeling guilty- but not. i waited for him to just. stop.

but he didn’t. the crying got louder and the way he called out ‘mommy’ ‘mommy where are you’ was kinda heartbreaking. and i feel guilty for writing these words now- but at the time i really just couldn’t deal.

come on- he totally asked for it being a little shit all day to his older bro. so i sat there in my closet- never stirring. as i sat there i thought to myself “fuck off, mommy is busy!” i’m busy being alone! i’m busy having some me-time! i’m dreaming of smoking two joints in between bites of a jar of dulce-de-leche dammit!

eventually- probably about 20 minutes into it- he did stop and probably realized ‘where the fuck is mommy, seriously’…i heard the older one saying ‘maybe she left’. the tears stopped, the rampage resumed and i went back to hiding without guilt. see? i didn’t fuck them up.

 

 

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