For Goodness' Sake--Get Out Of The House!

Saturday mornings are pancake time at our beloved breakfast joint. I've already talked about my imaginary cooking talents, so it’s no shocker that one of our weekly dining adventures is breakfast on the weekend.

My husband is a wild card when it comes to breakfast—and also waking up before 9 am on Saturdays. But hey, I’m not complaining. I cherish the mom-and-kid bonding time on Saturday mornings. No frantic school prep or last-minute backpack checks. Saturdays are for leisurely getting ready, chatting about the day’s plans, and embarking on the epic five-minute journey to our breakfast haven.

Once seated, we dive into our usual routine. My boy stands on the booth, giving everyone the toddler stare-down. Sorry, folks—toddler curiosity at its finest. Meanwhile, my daughter drags out her dry erase board, demanding a tic-tac-toe showdown. The waiter approaches, and we order faster than a speeding bullet. When you have little ones, there’s no time for the leisurely drink-order-then-food-order dance. For moms about to venture out into public, especially to a restaurant for the first time, this is a survival tip you need to write down!

After ordering, my daughter barely survives one 30-second tic-tac-toe game before declaring she’s starving and demanding to know where the food is. I mean, the waiter hasn’t even reached the kitchen yet. The boy starts cranking up the volume. Another survival tip—Dancing Fruit on YouTube (thank you, JS!). I prop my phone up, and voilà, peace is restored. Yes, I’m that mom who whips out the technology to keep the peace. And remember, we’ve been seated for less than five minutes when Dancing Fruit (yes, the volume is muted) makes its grand entrance!

Thankfully, the pancakes and side dishes arrive quickly. My boy tackles the fresh fruit first, sorting it like a tiny fruit critic. He might nibble on my scrambled eggs, but he’s more interested in grooving to his own beat, which just means constant wiggling. Years of mastering the eat-fast technique (no, I did not grow up hungry, I just eat fast) have turned me into a dining-out-with-kids pro! I can devour a pancake and half a turkey sausage patty in record time. Then, I attempt to feed the baby some of the pancake, which he usually accepts.

But, within 10 minutes of our meal, the restlessness becomes palpable. My daughter is done with her meal, my son is beginning to wiggle chaotically, and I can feel we're closing in on the brink of a meltdown by all parties. Thankfully, the waiter arrives to ask if we need anything. Yes, the check, please. No to-go boxes—those are just fridge decorations that no one touches!

I pay the bill, and we’re off. The entire event is less than 25 minutes. I feel like I've ran a marathon at this point, and I can feel my patience slipping ever so slightly. But I'd promised we'd buy some books. Our favorite book place is also our favorite consignment shop. However, it's only 9:20 am and the shop doesn’t open until 10 am. So, we take the scenic route and get the car washed. This delay which led us to the car wash has now put more strain on all parties in the car. Thankfully, after the car wash we were able to head straight to the shop and arrived at open time.

But then I made a parenting mistake --I left the pacifier in the car. Now, I have two choices: dash back to the car with the kids or hope he chills out. Apparently, I was feeling adventurous yesterday in spite of the pending doom I could sense and decided to go pacifier-free. I would come to regret this by the end of the shopping trip.

Ever shopped with kids on a day that's slowly unraveling? The baby constantly squawked and threw every book I handed him down on the floor. Why did I keep handing him books you might ask. The answer is that for a brief few seconds he stopped his squawking. But, when he realized he couldn't tear out the pages from board books, the throwing and squawking began again. I told you I regretted leaving the pacifier in the car.

This consignment shop has everything. I’m a sucker for a bargain and love this place. It’s like my mothership calling me home. My girl feels the same way when we get to the toy section. This is where my patience was tested to a limit I didn't even know I had until I became a mom. My daughter wants everything in sight as is normal for kids. But now my first response is no longer accepted by her. A simple "no" is never enough. Nor is my explanation about why she can't have 20 different toys today. After around the tenth time I've asked her to stop asking me, I finally had to channel my "mom voice" to get her to stop (If you're wondering, she was given the option for one toy and she chose an Easter tic-tac-toe game).

It's during this battle of wills I'm having with his sister, that the baby senses it’s the perfect time to start screeching (yes, this is worse than the squawking). Because, why not?! We make it to the register, and luckily, there’s no line. Once checked out, we head home. I can feel myself coming apart at the seams. And the little voice in my head is screaming, "For goodness' sake you have get out of the house by yourself!"

Once home, I find my husband watching basketball on the couch. I hand him the baby and say, “Tag, you’re it. The baby needs his diaper changed and it's his nap time.” Sensing I’m dangerously close to locking myself in a dark room, he takes over, and I collapse on the couch.

An hour later, my daughter heads upstairs for her nap. I face two options for myself: nap or escape. I choose freedom. With a quick “You good? Need anything?” to my husband (I'm fairly certain he said no, but I wasn't really listening), I’m out the door in a flash.

In my car, listening to non-Disney tunes, I soak up the sun and recharge. I didn’t realize how much I’d need these recharges as a mom. It’s not a daily or even weekly necessity, but it seems to be about once a month, and I need to escape. No kid-wrangling in stores, no parking lot vigilance, no whining or screeching or squawking. It’s more than an hour of nighttime silence—it’s 3-4 hours of just being me.

I do what I want. No over-planning for kid-related emergencies. Nope, just me. Sometimes, this solo adventure includes lunch. If you spot me dining alone, don’t pity me. A date with myself is pure bliss. I eat in peace, no tic-tac-toe, no toddler wrestling, no adult conversation. Just me, my Kindle app, and a meal. It’s magical.

I’ve even been known to catch a solo movie. A bucket of popcorn all to myself and a reclining seat? Yes, please! Yesterday’s outing didn’t include lunch or a movie but an errand of returned purchases and then a leisurely Walmart stroll, where I snagged a t-ball bat, balls, and glove for my girl. Then, a trip to Academy Sports for a glove for me (Walmart didn’t have the right one). Sure, I might spend money, but planning fun activities like teaching my girl to catch a ball with a glove keeps me grounded.

Recharging is invaluable, and I treasure every second of my solo time. Moms, we must care for ourselves to be our best selves. It took me years to learn this.

My first solo outing was when my daughter was two. I was riddled with guilt leaving her with her dad. But I reminded myself he could feed, entertain, and do everything I could. He wasn’t mom, but he was dad. And guess what? Their one-on-one time was fantastic.

That was a turning point. Two years was way too long without a recharge. Now, when I need one, I go. I ensure everyone’s set before I dash off. I’m a mom, after all—I must ensure all is well before my solo escapade. Sometimes, my kids are wide awake and want to join me, but I stand firm. They have their dad, won’t starve, and have plenty to do while I’m gone. No more guilt. Maybe a smidge for my husband, especially on chaotic days, but it doesn’t stop me. If I need a recharge, I need a recharge. Sometimes, a little selfishness is necessary. A 4-hour monthly escape isn’t too much to ask.

So, to new moms hesitant to leave their baby or moms with stage-five clingers, do yourself a favor and take a recharge break. Even if it’s just two hours. You’ll feel the difference. I felt it within 30 minutes of leaving my house yesterday. I came back ready to play ball and take a walk to our neighborhood park.

Repeat after me, "It's okay to get out of the house by yourself!"

--Amber