All I Want is Milk, Popcorn, and Peace

The smell of butter was wafting through the air by 7:30 p.m. My popcorn, specifically designed for butter fiends like myself, popped a tune that was absolute music to my ears. I just finished pouring my glass of milk when I heard the pops stop. As any popcorn fan knows, once the pops stop for three seconds, you run the risk of burning the bag. I nearly knock over my full glass of whole milk in my hurry to the microwave, thankfully dodging disaster. Though spilled milk is nothing to cry over, a spilled milk and burned popcorn duet is certainly a fiasco worth a tear. Crisis averted.

It’s my first Friday night alone in weeks, so it must go off without a hitch. There are the familiar staples: popcorn, milk, fuzzy socks, but a few key differences.

My husband ever so graciously – and perhaps a bit foolishly – suggested that he take our two sons, three and five years old, on their first camping trip. Camping. With little ones. I had laughed out loud at him out of instinct.

“Derek, camping? There’s no way. I can’t imagine—”

“I’ll take them,” he smiled sweetly. “You deserve a night to yourself, Annie.”

I didn’t fight him too much on that. At first, the idea of sending my little babies out in to the woods without me was cause for alarm. But they have their daddy, who is a skilled outdoorsmen. They’ll be fine, and then mommy can rest.

She can also drink her milk without spilling and sit in her robe without little hands marking her up with popcorn grease. Not tonight. Tonight I can flip on Love Actually, have a good healthy cry, and make an ice cream sundae that would make her little ones pout with jealousy.

Even my 12 year-old cat, Salsa, was emerging from the rubble. Salsa had been tentative at first, like she was emerging from a war-time bunker unsure if it was a cease-fire or the end of chaos and destruction. For the first time in a long time, she curled up on my lap and purred her head in to my stomach.

I stroked her back with one hand, and took a bite of popcorn with the other before pressing play on my movie.

“It’s just you and me tonight, Salsa. Just you and – ”

“Heyyyyyy girl!” The front door barged open, which immediately sent Salsa back in to hiding. My reactions were slower than hers, but I stills at upright in alarm. A night in for myself, I least of all expected someone to barrel through the front door.

“Annie!” One voice was beckoning me, but judging by the sound of the footsteps, it was a stampede that had charged my door down.

I clutched my heart, recognizing the voice. My best friend, Lucy. Of course it was her. Lucy can walk in any room like it’s her own, and that’s just what she did as she ventured down the hall to find me reclined on the couch. She eyed my empty milk glass and fuzzy socks at the same time I noted her pink-sequence spaghetti strap, complete with a plunging v neckline.

“Oh do not tell me you are sober right now.”

“Then I’m speechless.” As I said the words, three others appeared behind her and the four of them huddled together in the doorway. Lucy didn’t waste another second as she twirled in to the room, her dark brown hair whirling about like a model in a Pantene commercial.

“You’re telling me that your husband took the kids camping for the night, and you’re just sitting on the couch watching The Notebook?”

I flipped the switch on the T.V. in the smallest act of self-preservation. She wasn’t exactly right, but if I corrected her she’d be sure to say, “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.” So I kept my mouth shut. Besides, Lucy simply couldn’t understand why this night appealed to me so greatly.

Not only is she a beautiful social butterfly, dazzling each room she enters and charming strangers with her welcoming smile, but she doesn’t have any kids. A night in as a mother, I wanted to relax without the risk of a toddler jumped elbows-first on to my rib cage, or a screaming temper tantrum when bedtime came around. It’s the simple things that fuel me now, like the cat taking a nap on my legs or five minutes of stony silence.

Lucy is the exact opposite, which is part of what has kept us friends since the fourth grade. Maybe it also has to do with her childless life but it’s also the way she’s built: to love people. She’s engaged, so while the party life is mostly behind her, she thrives in all social settings. A meal at the local diner, and she will leave there promising the person at the adjacent barstool that she will check out their Saturday morning Pilates class.

She’s effervescent, and I’m all too aware of how contagious it is. It’s one of the things I love most about her, but tonight, I wasn’t having it. “Lucy,” my tone was warning, much like how I talk to my three year-old after he throws a wooden block at his older brother.

Not unlike my three year-old, this warning sparked a mischievous grin. Despite my efforts, I just spurred her onward. She rushed over and plopped next to me on the couch, gently grabbing my wrist with her purple-painted nails.

“Ann, come on. It’s the only night we have to go out together all year! You have to come. We planned this whole night special for you!”

My other friends cheered in the doorway. Of the five of us, only one other friend had children, and hers are several years older than mine even since she had hers at 21 as opposed to 26. Everyone was dressed with low-cut shirts, and my stomach was wary.

“Lucy, I can’t do it. I’m so tired, I just want to sleep and relax and not talk to anyone until I have to, when Derek and my babies come home tomorrow night.”

“You deserve a night on the town, joining in the outside world. Let’s go to a real bar with real adult beverages. You know, beverages that don’t provide calcium,” she nodded at my glass that was covered in a white film. “When was the last time you had just one drink?”

Her question actually stunned me. I blinked back at her, and then scrutinized the ceiling. How could I not remember how long it had been? Between the pregnancies, the breastfeeding, the exhaustion. I had only had a handful of drinks, maybe, in the last six years.

“Holy shit,” I blurted. Lucy grinned widely. “Do not smile at me like that. You know that smile makes me cave.”

She laughed and jokingly flipped her hair over her shoulder. “That’s what David always says. So are you in? Please? Oh, please Annie? You’re my best friend, and when will this night come about again? Name one good reason why you can’t go out tonight.”

I sighed when the other girls chimed in. Put on the spot, with the pressure of four friends standing in the doorway. Even me, in Mom mode, could hardly refuse this type of begging. While I wouldn’t admit this to the group, I felt a small rush of adrenaline at the notion of feeling so included and wanted. Yesterday my five year-old pouted and wouldn’t look at me all afternoon. The love now felt like a splash of cool water.

“Alright, alright. Fine.”

Lucy jumped to her feet, her natural enthusiasm effectively started the party right then and there as she began to drag me out of the room to find a change of clothes. “Ren, do you still have that flask of whiskey? Annie needs a kick!”

Regret almost immediately sunk in, and as I was pulled out of the room I longingly gazed back at the butt imprint that had started to form on the couch. Just then, Salsa hopped back on to the couch, hoping I’d be there. When I wasn’t, she whimpered a small meow and I reached out a hand before I was tugged from her view altogether.

“Don’t worry, Annie. You’re in great hands. We are going to let loose and party the night away, so you can get it all out of your system before the kids return.”

I didn’t bother explaining to her that the desire to throw back shots was not something I needed to get out of my system. All I wanted to do was watch sappy movies, have a cathartic cry, and snuggle with my attention-hungry cat. The neon signs and loud music were not my idea of a recharge, but Lucy was so happy to have me join in on the festivities, I couldn’t bring myself to back out.

She handed me the flask of whiskey with a smile before digging in to my closet to find “that one dress I wore to that one party one time.” When she wasn’t looking, I pinched my nose and took a swig. She emerged from my closet with a classy black romper I hadn’t worn in years, and I worried it wouldn’t fit me anymore. It did, and she picked out just the right look for me to feel comfortable in. With its high neckline and loose fit, it was the right choice to ensure I didn’t back out of the night.

By the time I was dressed and we shuffled in to the car, I was already feeling the buzz of the additionally whiskey my friend Clara had encouraged me to drink.

The night had officially begun.

***

A door slammed, and I jerked my head up. The second I opened my eyes, I clamped a hand over my forehead. My curtains were wide open, and the light was punishing. I squinted at the clock between my fingers. It was half past 6 a.m., and the motion of sitting up to see the clock made my stomach crinkle in disgust.

How much did I drink last night?

I might not know specifics, but I do know it was way too much. Not once have I blacked out from alcohol, but last night I certainly don’t remember changing in to my pajamas. Or stepping back home. I recognized Lucy’s bracelet on the nightstand, and started to recall her walking me up to my bed. Feeling my shirt, she must not have been the most helpful because my head was through the arm sleeve and my arm through the head of Derek’s oversized A’s T-shirt.

A storm rumbled through the house, thundering on the steps and before I could register what was happening, my two little ones burst through the door. My baby wasn’t wearing any pants or underwear.

“Mommy!” And they jumped on to my bed. One kneed me in the ribs while the other wrapped his arms tightly around my head. “Mommy what’s wrong with your shirt?” They giggled loudly, tugging on the shirt.

Despite how ill I felt, my stomach turned to goo as I held my two babies in my arms. They were home earlier than I expected. Way earlier than I expected.

“Mommy was just being silly. So silly, right?”

Derek walked in the room, striding over to kiss me on the forehead first thing. He pulled back and brushed my hair, smiling apologetically. “I tried to call. Sorry to catch you off-guard, I know we are way earlier than expected. We had a little accident. Well, two accidents, and didn’t have enough clothes for Luke to wear.”

I waved him off, and rubbed my cheek against Luke’s head. “It’s okay.”

He set down a brown bag on the nightstand. “Lucy called to give me a heads up last night. It was pretty late. I didn’t get the message until we came down the hill in to service, but thought you could use this.” Peeking at the bag, I recognized the golden arches.

“Sausage McMuffin?”

He nodded. “No egg, and an extra hashbrown.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Mommy,” my oldest smiled.

“I missed you!” Luke cried. Derek sat at the foot of the bed, grinning wildly despite the dark circles under his eyes. My look surely mirrored his, but for different reasons. He tugged at his shirt and cocked his head to the side.

“I’m helpless without you.”

“You’re telling me. Did you have a good night at least?”

I paused while the littles ones snuggled up closer to me. “Not exactly what I expected. But hey, I survived. As did you. Now all I want to do today is watch Blue’s Clues and sit on the couch with a cup of tea.”

Derek collapsed back on the bed. “You have no idea how good that sounds.”

The little ones continued to inch closer and closer, despite no space left between us. They were quiet, and giggly, and soon closed their sweet little eyes. As long as they didn't wiggle or jerk around, my stomach was fine and my head didn't pound quite as much.

Sometimes all you want is peace and quiet, or a night to yourself. But I guess things can't always work out the way you plan them, so you've gotta roll with the punches and take those little moments of stillness when you can.

If they are few and far between, at least I have my husband's forehead kisses and my toddler's laugh to tide me over just a little bit longer.