I’ll begin by admitting that I’m insanely jealous of stay-at-home-moms (SAHMs) and spend way more time than is healthy imagining how wonderful my life would be if I could be a SAHM. These imaginings are probably outlandish fantasies; in reality, I think I’d probably go stir-crazy after a week of staying at home. Still, I entertain these fantasies. Every now and then, I get a real-life taste of them. I got one today. And oh, was it sweet.
This morning, Anne woke up with a cold and an understandably cranky attitude. I e-mailed my boss and Anne’s sitter to tell them I’d be staying home with Anne this morning, and then I took my crying, sniffling daughter to her room and nursed her until she fell back to sleep. I held her for a long time while she slept, just looking at those sweet, swollen, red-rimmed eyes and that raw little nose and mouth. Today I guess you could say she had “a face only a mother could love.” And how I loved that snotty little face. I just love being able to comfort and hold my little Boo.
After I put her in her crib (where she slept for two more hours!), I went to the kitchen and put the dishes away. Then I did some house-cleaning—something I never, ever have time for unless I take a lunch hour to do it, or stay up until midnight. I did some non-work work on the computer (another thing I never have time for). All in all, a relaxing couple of hours of SAHM-hood.
Anne woke up a few minutes before my scheduled doctor’s appointment. Her nose was still running, but her crankiness was much diminished and she still didn’t have a fever, so I got her dressed and we headed to the doctor’s office. (This was the OBGYN’s, so I wasn’t concerned about there being a bunch of sick people in the waiting room.) (No, I’m not pregnant. Not even close.) (It was kind of cool to be able to introduce Anne to my doctor, who hadn’t seen her since she was born.) After my appointment, I called Anne’s sitter, Angela, to tell her that Anne was feeling better and I’d drop her off in a little while.
“Don’t bother coming out here,” said Angela. “We’re in town, and I can pick Anne up from your house in a half hour.”
A half-hour. More than enough time to swing by Riverblaze Bakery for a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll. (Of course I hadn’t had breakfast because I wanted to weigh as little as possible at the doctor’s.)
So Anne and I went to Riverblaze. I got coffee and one of their divine cinnamon rolls for myself, and I got a hunk of French bread for Anne (because my weird child does not like sugar). We sat at a little table (I actually had her sit on three large cookbooks so she’d be tall enough) and ate. And talked. And smiled and giggled and kissed. And chatted with the bakery owner’s four-year-old little boy. It was the sweetest little mid-morning mommy-daughter breakfast date.
I imagined that, if I were a SAHM, we’d go on these little breakfast dates to Riverblaze more often. Of course, if I were a SAHM, we might not be able to afford little luxuries like that. But maybe we would.
There’s no big point to this story. It’s just a memory that I’ll treasure for a long time. And by blogging it here, I can re-read it every now and then and remember.
Angela has picked up Anne, and I’m getting ready to head back to work. I’m happy to go back to work; I’ll just be there a half-day, and then I’ll be with Miss Anne again.
It was a good half-day of fantasy SAHM-hood.
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