I told a story yesterday about how my kids put a glass pan of brownies on top of the refrigerator and it came crashing down on me when I opened the fridge. I was surrounded by glass and brownie bits. It made me think that even though they are grown now, so much has changed, yet many things stays the same. One thing that will never change is that, despite the aggravation they can cause me at times, I love these kids with all my heart!! And as corny as it sounds, although this page was supposed to be all about my art work, my 3 kids are really mine and my husband's greatest masterpieces! The story yesterday reminded me of an article I wrote over 17 years ago, when the boys were little and I got a weekend alone. This ran on Thanksgiving day, 1995 in The Charlotte Observer. I dragged the yellowed copy out and re-read for the first time in a long while and decided to re-post it here:
ALONE AT LAST
A Charlotte mom finds life peaceful - but strange - during a weekend without kids
By Margi Arcaro Fisher-special to the Observer 
When I gave up my job as an art director 1 1/2 years ago to be a full-time mom, I knew I would lose my career-woman status, but I don't think I fully understood how precious time alone would become.
Now I was about to steal my first weekend alone in years.
I dropped off 3-year old Joe and 9-month old Andrew at The Observer, where my husband Mike is graphics editor. Having overcome reluctance about a trip alone with the boys, he was taking them to Charleston to see their grandparents.
It felt strange saying goodbye - like I was betraying the family be staying at home.
But as a free-lance artist and mother of two small boys who rarely has time for herself, I longed for some solitude and the chance to revive some projects that were languishing on the back burner.
I came back to a quiet house. Ahhhhh, the moment I've been waiting for!
Now what?
My list of unfinished projects had grown long over the past three years. They include a pastel wedding portrait of Mike and me that I started when I was pregnant with Joe, and rocking chair to paint for my nephew's first birthday (last December) and several pieces of unfinished furniture that would be beautiful in our home if I ever painted them.
Then, of course, there were the everyday chores.
It was too late to get involved in a big project, and I hadn't eaten dinner yet. So I sat down with a sandwich and pretzels and a glass of wine and read the paper - something I rarely have time for anymore, much to my husband's chagrin.
Then I cleaned the kitchen, finding signs of Andrew and Joe everywhere. Andrew, who is just beginning table foods and loving every minute of it, tends to end up with more on the floor than in his tummy. Joe hasn't quite mastered the art of not squeezing the juice box before he takes his first sip. And he continually takes the straw out, spraying juice everywhere.
With the kitchen transformed, I headed upstairs. The unfinished portrait smiled at me from my drawing board. But I couldn't work on that yet. Our bedroom was a mess, and my closet needed to be cleaned out.
After that, I climbed in bed to read. I found myself wishing I'd stopped at the library for a juicy novel. Reading, a favorite pastime, had definitely become a "past time". I settled instead for the stack of magazines on my nightstand. With chores out of the way, I thought, I'll get to some of those projects tomorrow. It didn't take long to fall asleep.
Saturday
I woke up abruptly at 5:23 am. Had I heard the baby? No, I was alone. I fell back to sleep and woke up again at 8 am. "Go back to sleep, you fool," I told myself. For so long I've yearned for a morning to sleep in. But I couldn't fall asleep, so I got out of bed, reminding myself I could take a nap at the pool later.
I made a pot of coffee and sat down with the paper. I enjoyed the Saturday paper because I love to look at the beautiful homes featured in the Home section. Do people really live in them? If they do, surely they don't have children. Back to reality... I emptied the dishwasher and filled it with the dirty dishes from the sink. And the floor needed mopping. I still wasn't ready for my projects.
First, since a weekend alone is so rare, I wanted to capture a few thoughts in my journal. The phone interrupted. It was Mike, calling from Charleston. He was reading from the note I had sent about Andrew's schedule. "What kind of cereal do we feed him?" he asked. I smiled and mentioned the jars of cereal in the bag I'd sent. "Oh, well my mom is making him a bowl of oatmeal," Mike said. "That's fine," I reassured him. "Andrew would probably like that better than baby food anyway." Joe got on the phone to tell me he missed me and that he had cried that morning. I assured him I missed him too, and we said goodbye.
Back to writing. Oh, there's the phone again.
This time it was my mom from Florida, checking to see if I had actually gone through with this "weekend alone" thing. "Yes," I told her, "the boys are gone." "I don't know if I could've done that," she said. Was that disapproval in her tone? Oh well, I thought, as I hung up. She raised kids in a town with family all around her, and a husband who was home every night by dinner. She didn't have to work part time, as I do, or worry about making ends meet. She also didn't..."Wait a minute!" I told myself. Stop making excuses. No one was going to keep me from enjoying this much-deserved weekend.
I went out to the garage to work on an unfinished china cabinet I've been finishing for my kitchen. After several hours, I decided to take a break and head to the neighborhood pool.
I didn't know what to do with myself. I didn't have to constantly run after Joe and Andrew or worry about them falling in the pool. I lay in a chair under the trees trying to rest, but relaxing doesn't come easy anymore. I kept thinking of things I should be doing instead. And I missed the boys as I watched the families splashing in the water, the children screaming with delight. Being alone at the pool wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be.
After a shower, I visited the library. I considered a Mary Higgins Clark mystery, but remembered that I would be alone. I settled for several novels and some home decorating books. But I also couldn't resist wandering over to the children's section, where I picked out several books for Joe by Lynn Munsinger, an illustrator we all love. I considered renting a movie - a mushy one that Mike would've hated - but I decided I was trying to do too much.
Back at home, I sat down with a takeout pizza and a glass of wine. I finally felt relaxed. I couldn't think of the last time I was able to indulge in such peaceful solitude. Sitting on the floor with my dinner on the coffee table, I browsed the decorating books uninterrupted. Inspired as much by the homes' cleanliness as their architecture, I wondered, "Where is everybody's junk?" It's amazing how such simple pleasures could affect my attitude. The stress and feeling of being on edge were melting away.
After a couple of hours, I remembered I had promised to call Charleston before the boys were in bed. Grandma Fisher answered, sounding exhausted. "That Andrew! He's into everything! He wants to be right with Mike and Joe all of the time. We've been trying to keep him entertained, but he's wearing us out!" she said. Mike got on the phone and pretty much echoed her comments. He sounded pretty frustrated (a word that usually described me). I had to smile to myself. "Now they know," I thought. "Now they understand me and my need to be alone."
I hung up and decided to clean the bathrooms. Finally, I snuggled into bed and read until midnight. Then, I had one of the best night's sleep I've had in more than three years.
Sunday
Sunday morning I awoke well rested. Mike and the kids were due back in mid-afternoon and I began to feel I was running out of time.
I thought by now I'd be so anxious to see the boys that I wouldn't care about my unfinished projects. I did miss them, but I was enjoying being alone. I felt ashamed. I tried to tell myself this break would make me more patient and understanding with the children. Maybe they would've missed ME so much they'd be perfect angels when they returned.
I went to church alone and realized then how much I missed everyone. I watched a baby Andrew's age trying to rip his grandmother's necklace off. She looked exasperated. I smiled. "I can't wait to see that little devil Andrew," I thought.
Back home, I took a look at my "to do" list. There wasn't time to finish everything. I put a roast on for dinner and changed into my painting clothes. I wanted to make as much progress as possible on my cabinet while I had the chance.
Around 2:30, I started looking out for the boys. I wondered how excited they would be to see me. I wondered if Mike would get out of the car and profess his undying love and newfound appreciation for me and everything I do for the three of them.
Finally, I looked up and saw the grey Nissan pulling into the driveway. Joe's little face broke into a big grin. What a warm feeling that gave me. He ran and gave me a big hug and kiss. Mike was pretty happy to see me too. He seemed relieved to have the ordeal behind him.
Andrew, on the other hand, just stared at me. Could he have forgotten me in two days? Was he mad at me for leaving him? Mike explained that Andrew had just awakened from a nap and was probably disoriented. I ran to get him out of the car seat and smothered him in kisses. Finally, he started laughing. He clung to my neck and buried his face in my shoulder, bestowing his sweet, slobbery kisses on me. He hadn't forgotten his mommy!
Inside, Joe dumped his loot from his grandparents onto the family room floor. Mike dumped all of the luggage inside the front door. Andrew headed straight for the coffee table to destroy my library books..
And I began:
"Andrew, NO! Don't do that!"
"Joe don't put those there, I just cleaned this room. And watch out. You're going to knock that (SPLASH) water over."
"Mike, can't you take everything straight upstairs?"
Where was that patient, well-rested woman I thought I had created in two days?
The boys were back - and she was gone.
November 23, 1995
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