Let the records show that Peyton has officially spent his first night away from us. Or, as I prefer to memorialize the event, Steve and I have had our first night alone without the Little Dude, since Little Dude joined our family. Either way, night passed to morning and we all survived the time apart. If we had played our hand correctly, we would have gone off on a romantic getaway, rekindled our "friendship" and maybe even had a bit of time to relax, just the two of us, before we became three again. Maybe next time we'll go that route. This time we mingled with Steve's relatives who are in town for a few days to celebrate Steve's cousin's wedding. Not such a bad alternative to a night alone though, really.
The drop off at my parents went smoothly. Having lived there a week ago while they were on vacation made it seem familiar to Peyton. He has all his favorite electrical outlets mapped out and sure does love the stairs! After a brief rundown of the essential details (I thought it was brief anyway) I was on my way. When I arrived home to my own empty house I was a lost soul. Have I been alone in my own home at all this past almost 10 months? I'm not sure that I have and boy is that an eerie feeling! The closest comparison I can come up with is the way you feel when the power is out. Logically you know the power is out and yet you still find yourself turning on a light switch in a dark room to help you find something like, well, the flashlight to help you see in the dark room. That's what I kept doing, turning on the baby monitor even though I knew I didn't have the baby! Luckily, the turnover time was under an hour and the giddy excitement/nervousness of time alone with myself/without the baby was short lived. Dinner at the country club was a welcome distraction.
I had to keep fighting back the "did I forget something at home?" feeling all evening. It was also a mental challenge to have "adult" conversations. I've become accustomed to "baby talk." When you travel around with a baby, there is always something "baby" to talk about and people seem to love this. They flock to us. So long as the baby is there to look at and play with anyway. When conversation runs out with the baby there is always "something" to take care of, or at least you can "look busy" and duck out of an awkward moment or two.
Since I didn't have Peyton with me last night, my hands weren't the only empty part of me. I felt a bit empty inside as well. Without him to hide behind, I had to dig deep to find even a small part of who I was before I was a mother. Truly. I used to be a lot of things that I'm starting to realize I've let fall by the wayside. For almost 10 months all I've tried to become is a mother. Evidently I still don't feel like one without my baby in hand. Isn't that an eye opener. Is a mother a mother without her baby? Or more confusing to me, what is a mother without her baby?
Despite the internal conflict I was grappling with all evening, I had a pleasant time and was quite relaxed and at ease, if I do say so myself. It really was a nice evening. Different, but nice.
Peyton is still having a grand time with his grandparents and Steve is getting a massage this morning. Here I sit, alone, and instead of doing all the wonderful things I imagine doing if only I had a moment to myself, I'm blogging...about my son no less.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. Time to face the fear of myself and invite it out to play. My time alone is quickly coming to an end and I must find a place of peace within myself before the opportunity passes. If nothing else, I have to at least get some housework done!
Having taken the time to wrestle with my emotions, here's the irony about the whole night and morning alone event:
As much as I was dreading the moment alone with myself, I'm now dreading the moment it will end!
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