Re-entry's a B*tch

It's always been hard to come down off the initial rush of picking up the kids (it doesn't get any better than that sprint into my arms as they scream "MOMMYYYYY!"), after they've had a night away at Granmama's, and actually get back into Mommy mode again. I've learned it takes me about three or four hours to adjust, even if they've only been away for twelve. Yesterday I picked them up and was immediately barraged with questions that demanded answers I didn't readily have or particularly want to come up with:

"Mommy, how did they build a tunnel for the BART train under the Bay without drowning?"
"Mommy, what types of fish are in the Bay?"
"Mommy, what does the inside of my tummy look like?"
"Mommy, what does the President of the United States do?"

It was President's Day: I should have at least have prepared a susinct answer for the last one. Oh well. I wasn't shocked to hear myself finally, after numerous valiant attempts, answer repeatedly "I just don't know."

What was more surprising for me this weekend was that it took four hours to transition OUT of Mommy mode as well. My wonderful husband whisked the boys away on Sunday at 11am. I headed for a pedicure, then to see the movie Dreamgirls with two dear girlfriends. But as I exited the movie theater I found myself feeling more deflated than I had in a long time (a feeling that scares even the most stable survivor of depression). I went home, knowing another movie (how lucky could I get?!?!) and sushi (hello, Heaven?) with my husband awaited me that evening. But all I wanted to do--what I in fact did do--was curl up in a ball in my bed and close my eyes.

I was confused by my reaction-kept wondering why in the world Dreamgirls would make me so sad. It's not a depressing movie (happy ending and all). Then I realized I wasn't quite through the four hour transition time. I was still in Mommy mode with no one to play Mommy to. The house was quiet. The monitor and sound machine in B's room were even turned off. Silence was mine. But instead of feeling the sweet relief of duty and obligation, I suddenly felt...empty. Add to this the self-loathing that came with knowing I was wasting the one and only night alone in my home with my husband I will get in this entire calendar year, and as you might imagine, the mood got pretty dim.

Luckily, my husband came and asked me if I just wanted to be alone. "Yes," I said. Then, knowing myself as I do, I mentally slapped myself. Hard. "No. Let's get out of here."

We went to the movie theater with a bottle of wine in a picnic cooler and spent the next 2.5 hours reading the subtitles of The Lives of Others, a film about East Germany in 1984 (which may be the best movie made in the last few years), while sipping Italian Pino Grigio. This was good. When the doors of the theater let us back outside, Mommy mode was hiding and I was in Let's Get Sushi mode. The night was saved.

Still, I got up the next morning and got out of the house immediately (and got a lot of work done for once). The calm of it all was giving me the heebie jeebies. It's funny, I looked forward to that "break" from the kids all through the week last week, and only now, with the two little noodles back and cuddling me and jumping on me and pummeling me through the day do I feel the calm I craved.

Next time The Big Noodle and I get some time off, we're checking into a hotel.