THE BATTLE FOR THE ME PLACE

    

There is a beautiful Georgian townhouse that is mere minutes away from where I live. I cannot pass it without slowing down or coming to a complete stop and taking in its gorgeous exterior. It is flawless. The grounds are even immaculately groomed. I have fallen in love with it. Not just because of its appearance, but also because of what it represents to me. It could be my ME place.

My entire family knows I am in a constant state of lust when it comes to that townhouse. They know I have even checked into the price of it. I have seen the floor plans of it. My kids laugh when they are with me in the car and I spot it. I always say, "There's my other home." They are also aware it is to be just for me to live in on occasions.

"Why would you want a place that is all your own? Is there some reason you want to be away from me and the kids? Am I getting on your nerves? Is something wrong?"

And therein lies part of the problem of having a ME place. I am a wife and mother who does, in fact, love the three of them an enormous amount. For my husband to fret that he is doing something that he perceives as driving me away from him upsets me terribly.

"No, you are doing nothing wrong at all. I love you. I always want to be married to you. Sometimes I crave a quiet place free of any and all distractions. A place where the phone does not ring constantly. A place where music is streaming through the rooms instead of the sounds of televisions. A place that is filled with only the furniture and decorations I choose to be in it. A place where I have a large room devoted exclusively to the many arts and crafts that enable me to enjoy creating. A place that remains spotless. A sanctuary just for me."

He nods his head. He can understand those wants and needs of mine. We discuss the possible benefits of buying a second home. An investment of sorts. Since I have no intention of living there except for occasional days when the world around me seems to be crushing my skull, there is the issue of how we can justify purchasing that scrumptious townhouse. It would remain vacant far more often than it would be lived in.

"What is the matter with you? Why in the world do you want to escape from your husband and kids to be by yourself? What if one day you find them all gone and you really ARE all alone? How are you going to feel about those days you scampered off to your little ME place? Are you going to wish you had spent those precious hours with your husband and children instead? Shame on you."

Those are the thoughts I have as a wife and mother. I feel selfish when I think about myself before my family. The feeling of guilt is enormous. My brain can sort it out and logically tell me there is nothing wrong with wanting a respite from the hectic and sometimes chaotic atmosphere that can be found in my home. The guilt is heaped on me not by family members, but by myself. No one has the ability to make me feel horribly guilty about anything the way I can. I become my own worst enemy.

"Hubby takes his vacations with his buddies whenever he feels like it. Fishing trips, ski trips, golf trips, trips to visit good friends with his good friends. Hasn't he gone to the Super Bowl, the Final Four, the Fiesta Bowl all without me? Does he feel bad when he does that? Not to my knowledge. He calls from wherever he is and says he misses me, but that he is having a good time."

So why does my desire to infrequently spend time away from the center of my world cause me to be consumed by the feeling that I am not a good mother and wife? Aren't I always here for them? Who is the first person they each come to when they have worries? Haven't I navigated the icy perils of the road to come rushing to the scene when my son's car hit a patch of ice and veered into a telephone pole while my father was unconscious in the hospital's ICU and hubby was out of the state at the Final Four? When my daughter fell and hit her head on an end table at a birthday party, wasn't I the one who took her to get stitches? Who did the school call when my children became ill and were in the nurse's office? When hubby was tearing down our deck and a board slammed into his face, didn't I rush to his side and tend to the cut before taking him for an x-ray and sutures? Who willingly and gladly types or even composes work documents for him? How many meals have I prepared for all of them? How many rooms have I cleaned and kept tidied? Who has given the beloved family dog her insulin shots twice a day for five years? How many Christmases have I made special in so many ways for all of them? Who hid the Easter baskets and eggs? Who joins hubby at the social functions he must attend? Who held his father's hand tightly in hers to soothe him at the funeral of his mother? And who gives him the physical love as well as emotional love on a daily basis? Who never goes to sleep without saying prayers for our children and for him? But the guilt for wanting that ME place still weighs heavily on my mind. My opponent in this battle for the ME place? Myself, of course.

"I see the kitchen counters are now covered with dishes and a stack of mail. The doorbell has rung and a friend of my daughter's is here. The television in the family room is blaring. My son has deposited a pile of dirty laundry from the just-home-from-his-vacation in the family room, mere steps away from the laundry room. The living room is full of Christmas presents yet to be hauled off to the various rooms of the house. Hubby has asked me if I would help him write the opening prayer for a church dinner and planning meeting that is tonite. My daughter is frustrated and fussing that she is being taught how to give the dog her insulin injections in case a time arises when I am not home. My mother has phoned to see if I can still take her to her two appointments with her cardiologist this week."

For now, I will envision myself ensconced in that lovely townhouse. Settling into a comfortable, overstuffed chair with my feet tucked beneath me. My ears filled with music that calms my body and mind. Alone. Just for a short time. Inside my ME place.

"I love people. I love my family, my children...but inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that's where you renew your springs that never dry up." ~Pearl S. Buck