The fantasy world of a mother

I can remember (just barely) a time when the word “fantasy” elicited a list of things like coconut oil massages on a tropical island, an unlimited shopping spree, or an evening involving a lot of lace, feathers and sweat. But—and I’m not exaggerating at all here—my fantasy world has morphed into something like this…

Sitting in a coffee shop, alone, drinking a hot coffee at a time when I am not trying to get pregnant, currently pregnant, or nursing a child. No one is going to cry or stay awake all night or vomit or cause an allergy. No. This caffeine is going to do nothing but make me feel amazing (and guilt-free). Then I have a second cup…all while no one talks to me.

Working out in an actual gym—not in my living room with an infant or toddler climbing all over me or ripping my boob out of my sports bra as I try to do crunches. Not outside with a small person strapped to my back or chest. In a gym. Running and sweating and listening to music that is inappropriate for children.

Cleaning my entire house, and all in one shot. I mean hours of dusting, vacuuming, scrubbing, washing and tidying. Not one toilet lid or one wall of the shower here, a sink or window there. Not folding last week’s laundry as I start this week’s. Not putting the toys away only after I impale my foot with a tiny plastic pitchfork. All of it. At once. And it stay that way for at least twenty-four hours.

Sleeping in a big (clean) bed with only myself to put to sleep.

These are literally the things that run through my head these days. How about you? What do your fantasies look like?

 

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