Tired Mom Diary – Chapter 12 – I Don’t Want a Break
Ben gave me Saturday off.
A whole Saturday.
No groceries. No laundry. No school stuff. No Nora asking me where her other sock is while wearing it.
“Go do something for yourself,” he said.
I stared at him.
“Like what?”
“Whatever you want.”
Dangerous words.
I hadn’t been asked what I wanted without a follow-up question in six years.
At 10:14 a.m., I was sitting in the mall parking lot.
Alone.
With money.
And absolutely no idea what to do.
I considered shopping.
But Nora needed winter gloves.
Ben’s jeans were getting worn out.
My mother wanted a new kettle.
I opened my Christmas spreadsheet.
Then closed it.
This was supposed to be my day.
I went into a store.
A saleswoman asked, “Can I help you find something?”
I nearly said, “Myself.”
Instead, I said, “No, thanks.”
I’m forty-six. I have some dignity left.
At 11:30, I bought a coffee.
A large one.
With whipped cream.
Nobody asked for a sip.
Nobody told me it looked disgusting.
Nobody knocked it over.
I sat down.
Took a picture.
Sent it to Ben.
Having fun? he replied.
Yes.
I was lying.
Not because I was miserable.
Because I didn’t know what fun was supposed to look like when nobody else was involved.
At noon, I walked past a children’s clothing store.
There was a white sweater in the window.
Exactly Nora’s size.
Exactly what she needed for the school concert.
I went inside.
Picked it up.
Then remembered.
School was Ben’s.
I put it back.
Picked it up again.
A woman beside me said, “It’s on sale.”
I almost told her about our marriage.
At 12:47, Ben called.
“Hey. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Just checking.”
“Is Nora okay?”
“She’s fine.”
“Did she eat?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Food.”
“Ben.”
“She’s alive. Enjoy your day.”
He hung up.
I stared at my phone.
The nerve of that man.
Being competent.
Without supervision.
THINGS I DID ON MY DAY OFF
Drove to the mall.
Bought coffee.
Looked at clothes for other people.
Checked the family calendar.
Checked it again.
Googled whether six-year-olds need vitamin D in winter.
Read three reviews of a kettle.
Bought nothing for myself.
Excellent use of a Saturday.
At 2:16, I was back in the car.
I could go to a movie.
Get my nails done.
Sit in a restaurant and eat something that wasn’t stolen from a child’s plate.
Instead, I checked the time.
If I left now, I could stop for groceries.
Get home before dinner.
Put a load of laundry in.
Maybe wrap a few presents.
I turned the car on.
Then turned it off.
Sat there.
A woman walked past carrying four shopping bags.
I wondered what she’d bought.
Then I wondered why I cared.
I used to have hobbies.
I think.
When I got home, Nora ran toward me.
“MOM!”
I put my bag down.
“Hi, baby.”
“Where’s my -“
“Ask Dad.”
She stopped.
Looked at Ben.
Then back at me.
“But you’re here.”
I opened my mouth.
Ben appeared behind her.
“Come on, kiddo. I’ve got it.”
She went with him.
I stood there.
Nobody died.
Again.
Later, I found a shopping bag on Nora’s bed.
Inside was a white shirt.
Her size.
Tags still on.
For the concert.
Ben had bought it three days ago.
Three days.
While I was checking closets, checking websites, and nearly buying the same thing.
I carried it downstairs.
“You got the shirt?”
“Yep.”
“When?”
“Wednesday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He looked confused.
“Because I didn’t think you needed to know.”
I stared at him.
He went back to wrapping a present.
Apparently, there are people in this world who just do things and then stop thinking about them.
I married one.
That night, Ben asked, “Did you enjoy your day?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You should do that more often.”
I thought about the mall.
The coffee.
The sweater.
The two hours in the parking lot.
“I don’t want a break,” I said.
He looked at me.
“What do you want?”
I didn’t know.
That’s the part I didn’t tell him.
I didn’t know.
And for once, there wasn’t a spreadsheet that could figure it out.