Home Alone: A Mom’s Fantasy
I love you, family, but I need my sanctuary back. Please get out of here.
Over the past year and a half, we became a nation of unwilling homebodies. Even those who, like me, used to wear that descriptor like a badge of honor spent more time stuck in our residences than we ever could have imagined back in pre-pandemic times. And the toll that shift has taken on moms, in particular, has become more alarmingly apparent with each new depressing headline about our deteriorating mental and physical well-being, the increasing gender imbalance in the workforce, and other stats that make me resemble the face-palm emoji.
As doors that were slammed shut last year have begun reopening, many moms I know are back to planning or at least fantasizing about a kid-free escape with their partner, a kid- and partner-free girls’ trip, or even a solo stay at a hotel for a night of room service, on-demand movies, and unplugged alarm clocks. I definitely get the appeal of each of these scenarios.
My fantasy looks a little different, however. Rather than peeling out of the driveway and leaving my family behind for a couple of days, I want to stay exactly where I am. They’re the ones who need to GTFO.
Last year, I introduced my kids to the classic Christmas movie of my youth, Home Alone. As we watched young Kevin McCallister run wild with joy through his family’s (impressively large) house, the appeal of such a scenario in my own life was borderline erotic. Oh, the things I could do with a whole day — or more! — of uninterrupted alone time. No being interrupted five minutes into every item on my massive to-do list with a request for help, food, conflict mediation, or just general attention. No tiptoeing around after my kids’ bedtimes, when I just want to watch something awful on TV at a normal volume. No worrying about sending the wrong message if I decide to eat jellybeans for dinner or dance around the kitchen to songs with totally inappropriate lyrics.
For moms like me who trend toward introverted, “home” before 2020 came along was a sanctuary that belonged to everyone in the family but was particularly our maternal domain. Then suddenly the members of my family were all home nonstop for months and months, and my orderly domain became a chaotic physical space where the five of us were simply trying to make it through each new day. Those periodic windows of home-alone time that had sustained me and that I’d always taken for granted disappeared, and I missed them far more than I missed any social outing.
Once we’ve been parents for a little while, we all start to learn the situations that bring out the best and worst in us as moms and dads. For example, my husband doesn’t do well when the child noise level approaches “heavy metal concert,” especially in the car. I can tolerate loud noise; what I can’t handle is too much time without the ability to recharge. I do that best alone, and best at home. Bad news in a pandemic when you have three young kids.
I’m writing this in July, still far from Christmas, but after the year we’ve all had, what even is time anyway? So, Santa if you’re listening, here’s my wish, and feel free to deliver it five months early: I want the full Home Alone Kevin McCallister treatment for a day or (even better) two. I love my kids and I love my husband, but I will love them a lot more once I’ve had a chance to miss them again. And I’ll be able to reconnect with the part of myself that just wants some calm and quiet in the space I know best.
