The Mommy Hour

The Witching Hour is a term that was once used to describe the hours when black magic was at its best. It was later used to describe the time between midnight and three a.m.  I now believe these hourse to be  ' The Mommy Hour'.  Nothing supernatural here.

The Mommy Hour is the often the time between 9:30 p.m.-12:30 a.m. (give or take a few hours). After tucking the kids, and often the husband, in bed, this time is used solely for the mommy.  In fact, I write to you now in The Mommy Hour. The day belongs to everyone else. You  divide your time between work, home and family. Although there are periods throughout the day where a mommy gets time to herself, I don't think it's truly until this time where a mommy is most effective.

In the last half hour alone, I have been able to do more things than I could have done the entire day. I organized the kitchen, put away the toys scattered throughout the house especially the living room, grabbed myself a cranberry juice and pitched up a tent in my living room. No really, I did. (It was the cutest igloo/tent in the Kid's Dept. at Ikea. Room or no room, I had to buy it. Plus it was only $9.99) Now after the tent-pitching, it's mommy time.

During this time, I usually get a call or two from friends on my cell or an email, so not to wake up the rest of my household  (although my husband is usually up having his Daddy Hour too.) We don't make small talk, we just stick to the facts and plan play dates for the week.  The call is short and sweet, so that we can each get back to our own "mommy time."   (Now if I can just fall asleep at a decent hour, so I can actually stay awake at these play dates, that's another story.)

I'm starting to realize that I might just be nocturnal and that sunlight actually hurts my eyes. The only problem is that I have to be up at the crack of dawn when little man gets up, because although he heads straight to the TV, turns it on and props his favorite DVD in the player, he still has a hard time frying eggs on his own. (We're still working on this one, so that mommy can sleep in. Is two too young to be frying eggs?)

According to my friends, The Mommy Hour is mandatory for the sake of the family. If mommy doesn't have time to wind down, then there's no telling what will happen to her family the next day or if breakfast will even be served. This unwinding time also includes: cleaning up, preparing kids lunches, paying bills, returning emails, opening snail mail, and folding laundry among other things. I like to focus on the other things: just sitting and staring at the walls (which I can't do--I always need to be doing something and wall-watching doesn't work for me), painting my nails (because who has time for a manicure, unless someone is getting married), taking a shower or bath (because, yes, some days we go un-showered.)  Most of my freelance friends or On-The-Go moms (aka Stay at Home Moms) use this time to work, paint, write, create (whatever word you want to use). This is when I finally write without interruption, except for the occasional moments that I begin to drift of, other than that, I am good. I really value this time. I, as I am sure many moms, do.

So, after all the other hours of the day; the working hours, family hours, errand hours, avoidance of household chores and inlaws hours etc...it is good to know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and time for the Mommy Hour. Now if I could just stay awake long enough to enjoy it.

The Little Ol' Lady From Pasadena

I enjoyed some quiet time by myself at the food court in the mall. Just me, my Mediterranean salad, and a little old Japanese woman. Yes, you read it correctly--I ate a salad.

I promised myself to just sit still for a bit. (What? An unstructured activity? But what should I do?) So, I sat there alone in my thoughts: Should I have stayed home and used this time to nap like my husband and son?"...but I was interrupted by a little old Japanese woman.

"You look lonely," she said. "Ok, I will sit with you." I looked lonely? Had I subliminally asked her to sit with me? She responded as if I had asked her to. Was looking lonely synonymous with looking homely? What did she mean?

So, she decided to sit across from me, at the table I specifically chose farthest from the other tables. There must have been at least fifteen empty tables around us. I counted ten before she interrupted me. I wasn't sure what she was saying, but I smiled and nodded "yes." She was a sweet old lonely lady with a dark wooden cane in one hand. Her hair was dyed jet black and appeared as if she had it recently curled and styled (or she slept standing up.) You could tell by the lines on her face that she had seen many good years. You could also see sadness in her eyes, but she continuously giggled as she spoke, so I joined in and giggled with her. I don't know what we were giggling about, but when I realized what she said, I stopped giggling.
"Me silly woman. Too old to eat my food. It's falling everywhere." I didn't know how to respond, so I just focused on my food.

"Now, where was that Kalamata olive they placed on top of my salad?" I was determined to find it. Had I not been paying attention and swallowed it whole, pit and all? Just then, a tehina-covered lettuce leaf got stuck in my throat.
"Lady, you ok," she either asked or stated, I wasn't sure. I decided the latter and of course just nodded and smiled.

Our conversation continued. She made small talk. She told me she was from Pasadena originally, somehow her accent made me feel she wasn't telling me the whole truth. Then she said, "Mall not busy for a Saturday, huh ok." (Again not sure if this was a question or statement by the infliction in her voice.)
I replied, "No." (I'm not very good at making small talk.)

"You write lots. You have nice day," she said, as she got up to leave.
"You too," I replied overly ecstatic. I found my Kalamata olive, it had rolled under my plate.

That Which is Not Different

On a recent drive from Los Angeles to Temecula, I could have sworn I was having deja vu. Every few miles alongside the freeway, I would notice the same shopping center with the same stores. Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble...then a tract housing community and even a Westfield mall. Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble...tract housing...you get the point.

I had to re-sip my decaf Iced Latte with soy a few times, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming or in some sort of trance. Were we in the same spot we had been in all along? Were we driving in circles?
Nope...but how could I be sure? The sign finally read "Dorothy I don't think we're in Kansas anymore", aka "Welcome to Temecula" right after we passed...
...yup you guessed it: a Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble and tract housing community.

We continued our journey on to Wine Country. I couldn't wait....green hills covered in grape vines, just like those that I remember when I visited Italy. We were getting closer...I new from the sign up ahead that read "Wine Country ahead"...but not until we passed a Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble and TWO tract housing communities.

This is no joke!!!

When we finally got to the winery, I realized it was not even close to what I had seen in Italy. There were also two empty lots facing each other on both sides of the road.

I looked at my husband and said "you know what would be great here? A Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble and a tract housing community."
"But what would be across the street?" he asked.
"A huge parking structure to accomodate all the cars, of course."

We sipped our wine and toasted, "Here's to all that is the same."