Counting the Days

Don't get me wrong. I love my family.

But there still four and a half days left before the kids go back to school, Chris has a job scheduled, and I might actually get some desperately-needed solitude.

I could tell on Christmas Eve-Eve that I had reached my limit. We purchased tickets that day to the new Star Wars movie the next morning, and the thought of a few hours to myself sounded blissful. I threw out the idea to Chris that maybe I should stay home. "You really ought to come," he said. And against my better judgement, I let him talk me into it. That night, we had the kids downstairs with us late into the night due to tornado warnings, and I woke up the next morning tired and with a headache.

We piled into the van to head to the movie theater, and a mile away from the house, Chris started talking. "Please," I told him. "I really don't want to have to talk or listen to anyone for a while." And then I put Beck's Morning Phase on and stared out the window.

I am understanding more and more what I need to keep my introverted self mentally stable and happy. Having a minimum of three people in constant need of communication and attention in the sixteen-plus hours of the waking day for two and a half weeks straight is not what I need.

Four and a half days.