Sadly, I don't have a pantry. If I did, I would totally hide there sometimes. And eat Nutella. Or a cupcake. Or maybe drink a glass of wine...at noon. (I kid, but don't think this hasn't crossed my mind). I have a number of ideas of how I would spend my time in this imagined pantry for the 1.4 minutes I would hide there while my child momentarily forgot about me (and then subsequently remembered that I'm the source of all juice and graham crackers in the universe and would begin to chant "Mommy, Juice!" until I surrendered).
I daydream about what it would be like to spend the day reading books and listening to music and writing letters and birdwatching (ok, not really). Just anything that involves being quiet. There's so little quiet anymore in my life and I think it's starting to wear me down. Sometimes I feel like I might possibly crack open if I don't have the teeniest bit of space to just be quiet in. No cartoons, no juice requests, no dishwashers running, no conversations on the phone (as if that ever happens), no microwave beeping, no toy firetrucks with sirens, no unintentionally set-off car alarms, etc.
The "Dora the Explorer" theme song is on repeat in my head when I lay down at night. I hear "Mommy!" at least 435 times a day. People keep gifting my child with toys that have have sound. Someone asks me 125 times a day for juice, crackers, a show, etc. I hear myself say "Don't do that...That's not yours...Please ask nicely...We do not hit...Pick up your blocks...Eat your supper...Get down from there...Watch where you're going...Do not put that in your mouth, etc." a hundred million times a day. I kind of want to be a monk who takes a vow of silence for a year.
The biblical mandate to "Be still and know that I am God" comes to mind sometimes and I hesitantly add that to my list of things "to do." It gets pushed to the bottom of said list, right after "organize file cabinet" and "pottytrain child." And so, obviously, it never happens.
I'm currently in something like survival mode, nervously reassuring myself that one day I'll get to be still and quiet and reflective. That day is not today. But, someday that will happen, right? Maybe when I'm fifty and "retired," if I haven't expired yet from all the surviving.
And so, I find a little bit of solace in chocolate sometimes. In the dining room. Out of toddler sight. For 1.4 minutes. I'm wondering if I called you right now if that's where you might be, too. (I see that hand. We should grab lunch, I mean, playdate.) Eating a candy bar in the laundry room. Or a bowl of ice cream in the pantry. Or maybe a spoonful of Nutella in the downstairs hall bathroom. (Note: If you're eating in the bathroom, you need a new hiding place.)
I'd like to know if some resourceful stay-at home mama out there has figured out the secret to finding some actual quiet space in the course of their day.
If so, send help. I mean, please share.
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