On one Friday each month, the karate dojo hosts a Parents’ Night Out. Sometimes it’s a video game night. Sometimes they plan a Pokemon trading party. Sometimes it’s a Ninja Ball tournament. But sometimes — like tonight — it’s a Nerf War, where kids bring their Nerf guns and the dojo supplies a massive amount of standard Nerf bullets.
Connor’s not always interested, especially as he’s now one of the older kids — but he’s always up for a Nerf War.
For the price of our usual “Fun Friday” pizza delivery, Connor gets to hang out at the dojo, shooting his Nerf gun and eating pizza, while I get two and a half hours of “me” time.
As drop-off time approaches, I always daydream about how much I’ll accomplish during those two hours alone. Maybe I’ll do some sewing, or declutter my storage spaces. Maybe I’ll do some weeding, or catch up on all the things I’ve been meaning to blog about. Maybe I’ll do an evening of digital detox — no phone, no laptop, no TV.
That never happens. None of it.
First, what happens is dinner. Sometimes I order out, or sometimes — like tonight — I scare up something simple for myself from the freezer or the pantry. My iPhone keeps me company while I eat, and continues to keep me company for a while after that.
Then the realization dawns on me: two hours is not as much time as it seems, especially at the end of the day, and even more so at the end of the week. If I’d planned a little more carefully, I could have knocked off a few tasks — as it is, though, it might be a better use of my time to sit in the sunroom and enjoy the sounds of spring. Feel the breeze. Watch the sunset. Calm my judgmental inner voice.
Yeah, that sounds good.
By then, the sunset has reached the cotton candy phase of blues and pinks, with a turquoise backdrop. It’s time to put my Mom hat back on and go pick up my Nerf warrior.
