Hi, my name is Laura, and I’m a Mombieolic.
Mombieolic noun: a mother who knowingly stays up well past an appropriate bedtime in order to enjoy copious amounts of alone time.
Like many moms, I stay up until ungodly hours of the night—or the wee hours of the morning, depending on how you want to look at it—despite severe exhaustion. Yes, well past the time that Jimmy Kimmel has signed off and is already happily in dreamland, no doubt snoring loudly alongside his own wide awake Mombieolic wife; here I am, vice grip on my Netflix remote ready to start my sixth concurrent episode of Game of Thrones.
It vaguely resembles a throwback to my college days when the mere thought of going out for the evening before 11 PM was appalling. Um, except now I’m like 20 years and two children older and I’m not leaving my house to go socialize with friends; I’m sitting here in complete and total silence.
During this phase of the day, my body aches, and my lips are like little lead weights careening together until I forcefully pry them open. The blood vessels in my eyeballs are so raw that it look like I have either just hot boxed my car with Snoop Dog or that I have literally been up for about 19 hours. It takes all of my effort to lift what feels like a 30-pound ice-cream-filled spoon into my mouth, but I get it there, damnit! Why? Because I’m a classic Mombieolic! I. Will. Stay. Awake… Despite the fact that my body is begging me for sleep.
Why, you may ask, would I willingly treat myself like a prisoner in Guantanamo? Why won’t I merely just go to bed at a normal hour?
I’ve just had an incredibly long and tiring day, and it appears that tomorrow will be the same, as will every day for the foreseeable decade or two.
Then why not be kind to the body I have and just go to sleep?
Simple. Because this is MY TIME! It’s the only time in the house when there is complete and total peace.
I can almost, allllmost, pretend that I’m alone on a relaxing beach vacation. I can close my eyes—but not for too long because then I will most certainly be overcome by sleep—and picture myself on a chaise lounge, the warmth of the tropical air, the sound of the waves, the smell of the ocean, the sight of the well-oiled cabana boy bringing me fresh fruit and tropical drinks… Shit! Get it together, Laura, and open your eyes before you begin to doze and the drool begins to pool on your pillow.
The house is so quiet. There’s no one calling for “waaaaater” or yelling at each other. The phone isn’t ringing. The dog isn’t barking at the neighborhood children as they all play and chatter in the street. There is no bubble bubble bubble, bubble bubble guppies, playing in stereo throughout the house on three different TVs. No, the only noise is the sound of me opening another package of Tate’s extra crispy chocolate chip cookies and the loud, delicious crunch they make as I chew them orgasmically, alone.
I can watch whatever I want. No one is asking what I’m watching or if they can watch with me. No one is grabbing the remote from me with abnormally sweaty little hands. I don’t have to compromise between sports or Blaze and the Monster Machines. I can put on the Ross and Rachel breakup episode of Friends, watch it four times in a row, and no one will know or be able to comment sarcastically about how cute and idiotic I am.
I can eat the really good secret snacks. Now, there are snacks that we buy for the kids (that we wouldn’t ever consider even touching our pallets) and snacks that we all nosh on, but what the kids don’t know is that there are snacks that I buy just. for. me! I remove these snacks from their super secret hiding place and eat them in the wee hours of the night without risk of them being grabbed at, drooled on, licked, or tasted by others. Call me selfish, but these are my snacks. Mine! Miiiiiiiiine!
Sometimes I will go online and shop. Yes, there is nothing like slowly and methodically browsing for new clothes in the darkness of a sleeping household. It’s almost as good as if you had one of those personal shoppers who brings the clothes to your home to try on and choose at your leisure and your convenience. Or what I imagine that would be like… Man isn’t suddenly behind me, grabbing at the mouse, pressing buttons, and thus magically emptying my shopping cart and replacing it with a game of Ninja Star Wars or some shit like that, all in all, effectively ruining my peaceful home shopping experience.
So you see, being a Mombieolic is not a choice. I am powerless over my late night alone time. Like all addictions, every morning I drag my exhausted, consciously sleep-deprived ass out of bed and make a promise that tonight, this night, will be the last night and I will go to bed early. Tonight, I will close my eyes and go to sleep the second that the kids go to bed. I will give up my alone time and replace it with much-needed, healthy sleep habits.
Fellow Mombieolics, there will be a Mombieolics Anonymous meeting tonight, in my bed, at 1 AM.
This post was originally published on Man vs. Mommy.
About the Author
Laura Russin is a SAHM of two young children, six and four-and-a-half. She blogs as Man vs. Mommy to maintain parental sanity and to spread awareness of ADHD. You can find her at Man vs. Mommy, on Facebook, and on Twitter.