It's a skill. The demands of motherhood are truly more than we can cope with some days.
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Most days? We all have our way of checking out. Locking ourselves in the bathroom for a few quiet minutes. Facebook. A good stiff gin and tonic. Years ago, a priest told me how his mother checked out. She had ten children, and, fairly regularly, life overwhelmed her. Questions overwhelmed her.
She had a code that she followed, all the children knew the code. If she sat down in a chair and pulled her apron over her face, she was done. DONE. Everyone knew that she was temporarily inaccessible. The apron was her Dome of Silence, her Phone Booth, her solace and her sanity.
Such was the topic of a mom's social evening at my house the other night. How do we hold on, check out, get a breath, collect ourselves?
One of our moms shared her modern-day version of the Apron. And so much more appealing.
With a Margarita.
"Mommy's going to Mexico for a few minutes."
"Oh, did you forget...Mommy's in Mexico."
"Don't bug Mom right now, remember she's in Mexico."
Brilliant. Brilliant, I say.
