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Every night is roughly the same around here. I make dinner. The kids look at it and make wild protests that will not eat “compost” or “whatever this is”. My husband and I start in with the lying and the cajoling to get them to take at least a few bites.
Then it is time to brush teeth. We call this wrestling at my house.
And then the main event of the night: bedtime. After years of torturous bedtime routines that stretch out into hours it has finally dawned on me that perhaps the reason why my children hate bedtime is because they are deeply offended that my husband and I simply cannot wait for them to be asleep. It shows in our eyes.
But once those adorable little ogres of mine are in the land of nod, things get freaky up in here.
I’m talking MOM GONE WILD!
Friday night is when I get to slather mud on my face. I wear my most comfortable sweatpants, the pair with a hole in the waistband, but I don’t care. That pile of glossy magazines from the mail get dusted off and I browse the mindless articles on bento box lunches, toddler tantrums, fat blasting workouts, and why I need to wear weird shades of purple lipstick this fall to go with the faux ombre hair style on page 43.
I flip on the TV and turn it to the least annoying reality show. I fire up the laptop and stalk my favorite bloggers on Twitter and Facebook. A bowl of popcorn appears in my lap and then disappears in my mouth. That tub of ice cream in the freezer might get polished off.
The laundry cries itself to sleep from neglect. The dishes in the kitchen sink can suck it. All of those damn toys littering the living room and dining room floor can play dead for the night because this mom is off duty.
Friday night is when I get as lazy as I can. I relish this time. If the kids knew they would try to ruin it with demands to eat my popcorn or use my face mud to paint something. They would whine that Wild Kratts isn’t on TV.
It is Saturday morning now and I am hung over from too much ice cream. That is not code for anything. I seriously woke up with indigestion. The kids woke up at 5:30 this morning and threw a party in the big one’s room that included throwing a bag of 100 plastic balls down the stairs.
As I reach for my coffee and a bottle of Pepto I smile knowing that last night I relaxed in the most gluttonous and selfish way I could muster.
This post was originally featured on Sarah’s blog, Housewife Plus.