The kids were shipped off to the grandparents this weekend, and it’s not only a kid-free weekend back home, it’s a long kid-free weekend, since it was parlayed into July 4th.
I recall the immediate feeling of pressure being released after dropping the kids off and driving home, but a lot of it more had to do with the fact that I was driving to a destination with a predetermined time with goal, and the fact that it was an obnoxious trek up I-85 given the usual array of crap drivers on the road. The drive back down to Atlanta was certainly less occupied, leading to an easier drive, but the mental weight of not facing a clock being off the table felt palpable.
However, there was also another feeling that I was feeling after handing the kids off to grandma; I already miss my children. That feeling actually started pretty immediately, watching grandma’s car pull away with the girls in tow, and it’s funny because as much as my kids drive me bonkers on some days, and as much as I complain and bemoan the lack of support I feel, and wish there were times where I didn’t have to be a parent, whenever those instances actually come to fruition, there’s nothing more I feel than how much I miss my kids and how much I love them.
That being said, when I got back home, I basically went through the rest of my day like a lost ghost, unable to figure out what to do, paralyzed by indecision, and completely incapable of relaxation. Like the title of this post states, if a gun were put to my head and I was told to relax, there might as well be a clock over my head to count down when the trigger would be pulled to put me out of my misery. I’m pretty sure I’ve written about this pathetic condition, but it’s also not often that I’ve ever in the circumstances of being completely kid-free at home where I don’t actually have to be a parent for a few days so you’ll have to forgive me if I’m regurgitating a trite topic.
I tried to decompress and wind down and watch some television, but that didn’t last long. I watched the last episode of season 1 of Succession, which was a show that I thought I would like more than I did, but it’s just been a little too slow of a burn for me, and I have doubts on if I’m going to keep watching more of it, or deciding to punt. I tried to follow it up with a layup of something I thought I’d like in watching the latest episode of The Boys (S4E6), but I couldn’t stop myself from feeling distracted, and dicked around on my phone through more of it than it deserved.
Ultimately, I ended up tidying up both of the girls’ rooms, tidying up my bedroom a little bit, and tidying up the bathroom where the girls have wrecked shop. I made a list of other menial tasks that I could try to tackle while the home remained kid-free, but the point of the matter is that I spent very little bit of all this free time, actually being free and relaxed.
As I’ve said many times before, the ability to relax is a genuine skill and it’s a skill that I simply do not have. At the same time, I am not envious of those who do have this skill, because deep in the recesses of my mind, I’m probably judging everyone who is relaxing too much and thinking that they’re lazy and not doing a laundry list of things that I think they could be doing instead of relaxing. I think what trumps my self-pity at being incapable of relaxation is the sense of satisfaction and accomplishment I feel when I am alternatively being productive.
All the same though, if Sunday afternoon comes, when I’m feeling the clock again at trying to be somewhere on time in order to pick up the kids, and I haven’t taken even just the smallest sliver of time for myself, then I’m going to go straight back to feeling like I’ve squandered all this free time, and be salty and full of piss and vinegar about it.
I really wonder if this conflict in my head could be considered somewhat of a disorder, or if I’m just simply too wound-up of a personality that needs to learn to fucking relax.
Prior to this, during one of the occasions where we watched some television as a family, we were watching some of the newer episodes of Bluey, which I’m convinced is pretty much the greatest show in existence for this generation, the episode titled Relax was basically speaking directly to me. I know I feel like Bandit a lot for the obvious reason that he’s the Dad of the family with two daughters, but in this particular episode, I 1,000% was Chilli, as the parent who is entirely incapable of relaxation.
It’s astounding just how many episodes of Bluey are just so sniper accurate at detailing what parenting feels like in this day and age, at least to me, and as the episode was unfolding, I knew where it was going, but I still was unable to avert my eyes at the obvious conflict that was going to arise as Chilli wanted to get everything in order, wrangle the kids and just get down to the god damn beach. And the feeling of getting some time, but not knowing how to actually turn off and relax hit harder than a baseball bat.
So, all I can do instead of anything sedentary and mindless, is brog about it. These last 20-30 minutes could’ve been used relaxing and finishing the last book I started and haven’t finished yet, or watching an episode of a show on my list 74 titles deep.
I wonder if one day, I will be able to acquire this skill to relax, or if I’ll always be plagued by the need to always be doing something productive. If I’m a betting man, I think I’ll have to bet on the latter. 😩
