Saturday, March 1, 2008

The Farm Wife Goes to Town

Our four kids are 10, 6, 4, and 2.

I don't get out much.

My dad invited me to dinner and a concert in town last night, and my husband graciously agreed to watch both the kids and the cows so that I could go.

My two-year-old was on to me when I traded my jeans for dress pants.

"You stay home, Mama," she told me, frowning.

"No, honey. I need to go to town," I said, meaning every word.

She contemplated my words for a moment before replying, "I get my shoes."

It took me a few more minutes to convince her that I would, in fact, be making the trip alone. She pouted with the proficiency that only a two-year-old possesses.

After kissing the kids and wishing their father luck, I enjoyed the hour-long drive to town in silence. I treated myself to my first haircut since August, and I made the obligatory trip to the grocery store. I usually make the trip twice a month, and each visit usually takes longer than an hour, but I found that I could breeze through the store in a slim 45 minutes without the "help" that I usually have.

I thoroughly enjoyed a dinner that I did not cook eaten on dishes that I did not wash. I wore jewelry without the threat of a toddler ripping my earlobe apart while grabbing an earring. I tapped my toes to musical selections that did not include "The Wheels on the Bus" or "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." The only dark point of the evening came when I realized that a googly eye had somehow glued itself to the back of my thigh, and I had been sporting it for more than two hours before I realized its presence.

Nonetheless, I returned home refreshed, renewed, and rejuvenated. I was happy to greet my kids this morning.

My 10-year-old arrived in our bedroom promptly at 7 a.m., announcing, "I believe I have some sort of disease, Mom." After further questioning, he divulged that he was a bit dizzy and felt very tired, and he proclaimed that there was a 10 percent chance that he had a sore throat.

Armed with that information, I took his temperature, which registered at 102 degrees. My heart sunk, knowing full well that when one child falls ill, three more are soon to follow. To cheer myself up, I began asking the smaller children about their night with their dad.

"Did Daddy feed you supper last night?" I asked the youngest.

"No," was her adamant reply, accompanied by vigorous head shaking and a face full of consternation.

When I asked the same question of the four-year-old, he had a different answer.

"Yes," he said brightly. "We had chicken nuggets and teeter totters."

"Were those good teeter totters?" I asked, stifling my laughter over his interpretation of tater tots.

"Yep, those were the best teeter totters ever!" he replied.

Obviously, Daddy is a much better teeter totter cook than Mommy, which means that I must go to town alone more often to afford them the opportunity to sample his cooking again.


Mum-me said...

That's great you got to go out for some 'me' time - we all need it, don't we? I hope the children don't ALL get sick, or at least if they do I hope they all get over it very quickly.

Bush Babe (of Granite Glen) said...

I sooooo identify with this entry... I adore my two (5 and 3) but the little tiny moments of solitude definitely hold an allure. I always think my idea of luxury has changed dramatically since my single days... now, 20 minutes alone with coffee and a good magazine at a coffee shop where no-one knows you, is the height of indulgence. As long as you know you are going home to them...

Bush Babe (of Granite Glen) said...

PS Can you thank your Dad for the sweet comment he left on my blog about dimples (think he was referring to you!!!).

Erin said...

So far I have three sick. . . one to go! I have that sore throat feeling coming on.

Twenty minutes alone in a coffee shop sounds like bliss, but so does morning snuggles with a toddler. It's a toss-up. I'll pass along the message to my dad (if he hasn't already read it here).

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