This post comes to you from one of my favorite Twitter Friends and Blog Commenters, Techydad.
As my children get older I can definitely sympathize with the desire to find a way to carve out some personal space within a home that sometimes feels VERY communal.
And sometimes it's nice to hear from the guys...
Saturday morning, I woke up and was feeling frisky. So I rolled over to B and began letting her know in my own special, subtle way. (Read: Not subtle at all. I might as well announce it with a giant, glowing neon sign.) Anyway, as luck might have it, my oldest son decided that was a good time to wake up also. Not only wake up, but wake up with a pink eye scare. And not only wake up with a pink eye scare, but wake up with a pink eye scare shouting loud enough to wake up his younger brother. So frisky wasn’t an option.
After taking care of the boys and getting them set up to play, I climbed back in bed. But our boys apparently don’t know the meaning of a closed door and kept barging in or yelling for us. Eventually, I gave up and went to get them (and me) breakfast while my wife slept some more. After my wife got up due to an ill-timed phone call, I climbed back in bed again, but the interruptions didn’t end.
I finally faced the fact that nothing was going to happen thismorning, but I had… let’s just say pent-up energy. So I decided to do what any guy would do… clean the house. (That *is* what other guys would do, right?) I went into the bathroom and cleaned the toilet, sink, behind the toilet and other areas that were in need of cleaning.
When I was done, I still had some energy left. I also noticed that the boys were arguing again. So I took out the vacuum cleaner. Here I must digress to explain something. My oldest son dreads the sound of the vacuum cleaner. He runs to his room at the mere mention of it being activated. My youngest then follows and they’ll actually be good during the duration. This time was no different.
As I went after dust bunnies under our bed (which I had just vacuumed up a couple weeks ago… man can those things multiply like… well, like bunnies), I began thinking. Despite the roar of the vacuum, it was actually quite peaceful. Nobody barging in. Nobody yelling. Would it be wrong for my wife and I to pull the vacuum cleaner into our room, turn it on and have some “us time” undisturbed by intrusions of the kiddie kind? Also, by admitting that frisky frustration leads to tons of tidying, have I doomed myself to a future of frustrated frisky feelings?