Off the Clock

You know what I realized? Except for one overnight trip for our anniversary and jury duty, I have never been away from both my children for more than a few consecutive hours.

So what that means is, as soon as I leave them at school, with a sitter, or with their dad, it’s like a stopwatch starts running. Gym, grocery store, check e-mail – bzzzz! Time’s up! Sorry, no shower today. Or: proofread and submit article, write blog post, make phone call – bzzzz! Time’s up! No lunch or laundry this afternoon. Or: clean kitchen and bathroom – bzzzz! Time’s up! Might as well face it, I will never have time to dust again until they’re in college.

Things are a little more lax on weekends when C. is home, but even then I keep a close eye on the clock when I’m out. A yoga class or a brief shopping trip is fine, but he’d balk at a day-long outing. I can’t say I blame him – 8 hours of breaking up fights over who had the Spiderman car first is exhausting. And 8 hours means at least 2 meals and 5 snacks, 3 or 4 diapers, and possibly even a bath. Not exactly Dad's idea of a relaxing Saturday at home.

This constant clock-watching gets to a person. A feeling of panic rises in my chest when I hit unexpected traffic or get behind a particularly slow person in line. Don’t you know I only have 27 minutes left?! I feel like screaming. (I should note here that almost every time we’re in the car now, Riley shouts, “Go, people, go!!” Wonder where he learned THAT?)

It’s to the point where I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m faced with extra time. When I was called for jury duty AGAIN recently (which my husband AGAIN suggested was some kind of break, as if I were spending the day at a spa instead of a bleak government building), I was at loose ends.

For the first couple hours, it was kind of nice to sit there and read a book. (Me! Reading! 20 whole pages in a row!) And I’m not gonna lie, going out to lunch by myself was awesome. They give you 90 minutes for lunch – 90 minutes!! At home I’m lucky if I get 90 uninterrupted SECONDS to choke down a sandwich. But after that, it got old fast. I couldn’t concentrate on a book. I couldn’t sit still in the chair. (Sitting? During the DAY? When you’re not in the car? How weird!!)

I couldn’t even write. Apparently, if I don’t have the deadline of preschool pickup looming over me, I’m utterly unproductive. I need the buzz of the dryer or the beep of the coffee maker to keep me on track. Efficient? You betcha. Productive? Usually. Sane? Not so much.

Tell me: how much time do you have to yourself during a typical week? And how do you spend it?