The Party's Over

If you’ve noticed a lot of women, and one man, walking around Shreveport like zombies this week, don’t be alarmed. Mom’s day out ended at most of our churches, and we are all simply searching for someone to watch our kids. For Annie and me, Tuesday was the last day of our two day a week Shangri-La. Fortunately—and by fortunately I mean thank god for my wife’s forethought—I am one of the few who locked up a babysitter early. That being said, she doesn’t start until the first week of June and even these two weeks seem waaaay longer than they should. I love my daughter. Why wouldn’t I want to spend more time with her?

The answer to that lies somewhere in the identities that we homemakers used to have for ourselves. Some of us use our eight hours a week to grocery shop and clean the house. But the smarter ones use it to do the things we love from our former lives. For me this covers writing and golf. Never before, have eight hours seemed so precious. Think about it, it’s only one regular, ho-hum day of work for most of you. But for me these two short days represent the time that I get to be the old—if I were super motivated—me. I pound the driving range until my back aches and my hands are raw. I pound the keyboard until my back aches and my hands are raw. In short, I live.

So those of us that have been busy living during our eight hours are walking around lost this week, and will continue to do so for the rest of the summer. This begs two questions: Why on earth wouldn’t we want to have a year-round Mom’s day out, and if not, why doesn’t someone start their own baby minding co-op? I take your kid on Mondays and Wednesdays; you take mine on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Instant, cheap, daycare. C'mon people!