There is a special kind of time called “Mommy Time.” It’s sacred to me, especially as a homeschooling parent to a child with special needs. One of the best parts of my Mommy Time is that it makes Mommy, er… I mean me happy. (Gosh, when does that third-party naming habit end?) The most exciting part is that this activity doesn’t involve motherhood at all! I get to be gloriously a-l–o–n-e.
Let Me Explain How This Works:
When I take my Mommy Time, this means my child is essentially abandoned to the wolves while I bathe and daydream. Well, sometimes I might also watch an episode of Outlander. Those things sort of …go together.
So, I light the candle, fill the tub, sprinkle in the Epsom salts, and drop in a blend of essential oils. I pour myself a glass of wine and step in. Aaaahhh… it’s almost perfect.
“Mommy?” AAAHHH!
The dream came to a screeching halt. He’s outside the bathroom door.
“What? It’s Mommy Time.” (“I shouldn’t be hearing your voice…” is what I wanted to add.)
“Can I play outside?” Oh. Heck. Yeah. He’s nine. I’m not overly worried.
“Yup! Be safe!” Now, where was I? Oh, a bath. Alone. It’s great for about two minutes. I actually took deep breaths and said a prayer.
“Ahhh! The monster! Get your machine guns, bros! Duga-duga–duga… boom! Wait? How did he get out of the dungeon? I’m on it!” A loud crash is heard after this dramatic, um, speech.
Shhh… I’m trying to just ignore this. My body hurts. I need to rest. But – I also need the quietness. In my mind, that sentence is typed in “whiny” font.
So, I dip my head underwater.
I rise just enough for my ears to remain hidden under the surface. Ahh… I can hear my heartbeat. I can hear my own breath. This is nice.
“Mommy?” What!? How did he get inside so fast? This time I was more literal. Usually, that helps.
“Baby, Mommy needs to be alone. I need to see no one, and hear nothing.”
“Okay! Can I play some music and dance?” Nope.
“Can I jump off my bed?” Nooo…
“Can I go to the neighbor’s house?” No!
“Well, what can I do?” He’s deregulating little-by-little.
My son lacks neurotypical forward thinking skills. He can’t exactly plan well for himself, yet. Add to this an attachment disorder and developmental delay. In the past, it wouldn’t have been unusual for him to sit outside the bathroom door and cry until I came out.
What he didn’t know was that I was crying on the other side, too.
People judge me for not getting more “self-care.”
Well, my friends, this is why. Unless someone else is around to help him stay mentally organized, my son cannot leave me be. Not for more than about 10 minutes. He is not self-sufficient yet, developmentally or emotionally, and requires guidance from someone else on how to navigate his day. He may appear to be older, but we are still very much in the toddler stages of learning how to be independent.
And so…. my choices are:
- A. Get mad at him for not leaving me alone.
- B. Get depressed, consider my special time canceled, and get out. Or,
- C. Take whatever moments of peace I can get and find a sense of appreciation.
So, I sink back under the water and hope he’ll survive for five more minutes . . .
~ Courtesy Janelle Molony ~
Janelle Molony is an adoptive mom, homeschool mom, dance mom, special needs advocate, and author/blogger at AdoptionToLife.com. She has written a memoir of her experiences fostering and adopting her son and overcoming life challenges like “Mother.”
ScreaminMamas 
Ever mother can relate to Janelle’s writing. She puts to words what I’ve thought and felt.
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So true. Thank you for your comments. xo
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