Saturday Night at Starbucks

Number of days of school cancelled due to snow: 1 (so far)
Month showing on my calendar: November
Number of days since Binta saw her dad: 94
In the Attic: Remembering the freedom of pre-single-parenthood

Actually, Binta's dad showed up on Thursday at 6:00 PM. So I have been kid-less for about 2 days and 3 hours. He hasn't been here since the end of August. I cannot even begin to describe the joy and freedom I am experiencing right now. I'm not sure how much more time I get before he has to leave again. I don't dare call to find out how things are going. As far as I'm concerned, I think perhaps they've forgotten about me, and I certainly don't want to got stirring up any attention to myself. My strategy: Lay low.

I love my daughter, don't get me wrong here. She is without a doubt the coolest kid I've ever known. (Cliche alert) She is the best thing in my life and I love her more than anything in the world.

But.

Being a single mother for 94 days in a row has worn me down to complete and total exhaustion. So bad, so that when faced with the reality that I was actually kid-less, I didn't know what to do. I knew I did NOT want to do anything that feels like an obligation. Like clean house, or get some school work done. Nope. I can do those things with her playing in the background. What I was faced with was complete freedom from being a responsible parent. I needed to fill my time with things that I could not get away with as a mommy. So, I spent the entire day yesterday with my boyfriend, and this morning, when I woke up, I was still at his house. I didn't need to hurry anywhere to relieve a babysitter from duty. Instead, I went to Walmart, and spent 2 whole hours walking up and down every aisle. I even walked through the sporting/hunting aisle, just because I could. Normally, if I were shopping with Binta, I would have a list planned out ahead of time, and a strategy in place that would incorporate the shortest walking distance in combination with avoiding any hazzards, such as toy aisles. We would get in and out as quickly as possible, before she expired and I had to haul her out throwing a fit.

Next, I went home and spent hours getting myself addicted to a new computer game. I dressed myself in comfy clothes and put on my slippers. I didn't have to cook anyone any dinner, I didn't have to put up with the sounds of Barney in the background, and I didn't have to feel guilty for not playing with her.

Around 7:30, I realized that I had another freedom that I had overlooked. I could leave the house if I wanted. I could actually walk out my front door and leave my house! There was no little girl sleeping in her bedroom. (Actually, lately, she spends more time sleeping in my bedroom). I knew I had to go out, just because I could. So I got dressed again, bundled up into my scarf and gloves, and scraped ice off my car, just because I had to exercise my freedom to do so. With the latest David Sedaris book in hand, I drove to the corner Starbucks, ordered a warm drink, and spent the next hour and a half sitting by myself in a soft, oversized purple chair.

I started reading my book, but became fascinated with the others that surrounded me. I fantasized coming home and describing the other customers in a very Sedaris-ish manner. But knowing damn well that it wouldn't even be close.

There were the 2 guys who looked like they were about my brother's age, and appeared to be working on some sort of homework assignment. (Homework? On a Saturday night? What was with these guys?) They were working out some sort of problems, defining characters from their reading, when one suggested that this particular character was the "tragic hero." They both thought that was hilarious. Then, the conversation shifted to another classmate, described as "...actually very smart. He won the Bill Gates Scholarship. He's great at math."

The Starbucks barista came around at this time, gently telling the patrons that they'd be closing in about 10 minutes. My drink was long gone by this time. The guys looked so disappointed. "Where are we going to go now?" they asked. The barista gave them directions to another Starbucks, which evidently stayed open later. They gathered up their things and left, and as I was doing the same, I overheard a mother say to her child:

"I told you, Mommy doesn't like you to call her that name. Mommy's going to have to tell Santa if you call her that name again."

Yes, I was tempted to ask her what he called her. But instead, I drove off thinking what a perfect ending that was to my child-free day.