Is Mama Happy?

My brain feels dehydrated. This last week of summer has been a whirlwind. Want a sample? Preparing Little P. for his return to school. (“But, Mama, I don’t want a new teacher!!!!”) Cramming in last bits of free time before the schedule takes over. (“We only have five more days to play--get outside and have fun!!”) Beating back every other parent out there for the "chosen" backpack. (For the record: I had my hand on Batman first.) Returning the house to some type of routine and sleeping pattern. (Does anyone actually sleep out there?) 

Why don’t I just cure cancer while I am at it?
I am sitting on the patio this beautiful cool September evening, a glass of wine in my hand, little guy (finally!) in bed, and pondering the exact answer to my husband’s question: “What’s wrong honey?”
The quick answer is that I need some time to recharge the batteries. I freely admit to being a perfectly happy selfish person. Before I come off sounding spoiled, please let me be clear it is a healthy selfishness that I speak of. If I don’t feed my inner desires creatively, intellectually, socially and entertainingly I will not be able to give much to this world as a mother, wife, productive person, or friend. The old maxim “If Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” is probably one of the truest ones I know.
Thankfully, my son and husband are happy to see me make myself happy. I regularly run off with friends for visits, incorporate the family into outings designed around me, or just take off alone. Trips to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, every Starbucks in New England, East Boston’s Santarpio’s Pizza, Nashoba Valley Winery, The North End's Little Italy, the Sudbury Public Library, girl's night-out, an Earth, Wind & Fire concert, shoe shopping (natch!), and the occasional hair show all make regular appearances on my iCal and keep me feeling fulfilled.
But this evening, the answer to Big P.’s concern is not that easy. I think what I am missing are the simple, quiet moments I enjoyed so much with my son at the beginning of this summer vacation. We had no need to plan time together; it was just there, in abundance. Days were leisurely, and we enjoyed the lack of a schedule. I am trying to recall when was the last time he and I cooked together--has it been a couple weeks?!? Lazy summer meals don’t require much prep, and consequently we have done less in the kitchen.
I miss my Mama’s Boy moments, I miss being in the kitchen with my little sous-chef, and feel better just realizing what this brain-melting malaise has stemmed from.
Tomorrow, we will bake a cake. I can stand behind him as he works the batter and get a little snuggle. We can laugh over flour smudges and I can marvel again for the ten zillionth time, how my son’s smile can fix the woes of my world. We will spend an hour in the kitchen, not sticking to any schedule or routine, just being together, creating together, making food and memories together.
I get up to head back inside and tell Big P. not to worry: I have reflected, worked it out and pulled myself back from the brink. I am not often in a funk and now that Mama is looking happy, he feels better, too.
“What was the problem?” he asks.
“No problem,” I reply, “I just needed to work out a plan on how to lose my plans for tomorrow.”