Why am I apologizing for needing to be alone in my office for a few hours a day?
When I was a kid, every summer morning, Mom shoved my brothers and me out the door with a See you when I ring the cow bell for dinner AND NOT A MINUTE BEFORE.
And what was she doing all that time?
I’m pretty sure she did housework for a while, but I’m guessing that a large portion of her kid-less, husbandless days were filled with reading the seven library books a week she checked out, and taking naps.
People are so damn nice to their kids these days. Filling summer with mornings at the fancy private pool, cool camps, road trips to amusement parks, creating Flow Charts of Fun for rainy days that rival hanging out with the cast of Cirque du Soleil.
I have barely seen some of my friends, who are simply never around because they are making their kids’ summer so totally awesome.
I have to write.
My life-long dream has been to become a professional writer.
I’m finally getting the chance to do it.
Which means I need to toss my kids into the basement with their kagillion toys and tell them: Go have fun.
Which translates to: Make your own fun, people. Mama’s gotta work and can’t afford camp this week.
Why am I apologizing for this?
When I was a kid, I spent my days traipsing through the woods, swimming in ponds, taking walks, hanging out in back yards with all the other kids in the neighborhood who were booted out by their own moms for the day.
I don’t ever remember my mom telling me: I’m sorry for having other shit to do than entertain your needy little asses, kids.
Sure, she always had homemade cookies or coffee cake sitting on the counter when we got back around dinnertime. Which, technically, could have been some sort of sugary subliminal apology for not wanting to spend her days with us. But I wasn’t one to ask questions when it came to dessert.
But I think she – and the other moms – just didn’t feel any guilt about making us find our own fun.
They knew we were kids with functioning brains and the ability to ask others: You wanna play?
I think it’s time for me to stop apologizing to my kids for needing to be on the computer just a few more minutes, when they are perfectly capable of fending for themselves in a house full of snacks, toys, crayons, board games, tables under which to make forts, and an obscene amount of Legos.
Look out, kids, Mama’s about to go Old Skool on your asses…