Get a Room, Mama


When you hear the phrase “get a room” you’re probably thinking I’m talking about PDA and getting frisky, but I assure you, I’m not. I’m talking about getting a room for you mama and getting some peace, quiet, and ultimately some sleep. This is my absolute FAVORITE gift from my husband. Let me tell you more.

I’m the “go-to parent.”

get a room

The one that the kids wake up and come to first. Tap – tap – tap to wake me up. “Moooom, I pooped,” or “Moooommmm, I’m hungry,” or “Mooooooooommmmmmmmmm, the boys are in my room.” The one that the kids literally ask for the moment they wake up. And, because of this, there are days I actually loathe my name. I want to change it, run for the hills, or at least pretend I can’t hear it.

Yes, I know I’m blessed. I was made a mama by my son and gifted with the surprise of boy/girl twins three years later. They are amazing children that have creativity out the wazoo, love (and sometimes hate) each other fiercely, and literally are the center of my world. BUT – before them, I was me. And before them, I could do a lot of things from start to finish without interruptions. And this is where my desire to get a room got started.

My husband luckily recognizes that while I’m extroverted enough, and am capable of being the momager that handles all the things, I sometimes need to just focus, regroup, re-energize in order to play this game called parenting. I work outside of the home as a college professor, which often means I’m also working inside of my home.

With kids (and a husband) around, it’s never easy to finish a task, a thought, or heck, even a sentence some of the time. The mental load of being a mom is rough. My hubs got smart once and sent me away when I had just finished breastfeeding/pumping and was not feeling like myself. It was magical, and now it’s the only gift I want.

For me, this isn’t an expensive gift either.

Living in the burbs, it’s enough for me to stay in downtown Cincinnati or Northern Kentucky, using a web or some other local deal, and just relax. I don’t do spa services or even room service for that matter. I pack myself a cooler with my favorite snacks, bottle of wine, and some water, too. I pick up my favorite meal as carryout (usually something I can’t get with picky kids and hubs) and relax on the bed, vegging out while eating a full meal in peace while it was still hot. I have brought work with me – spreading it out across an entire room which was magical, but I’ve also brought/done nothing at all and just binge-watched Fixer Upper until I fell asleep. The Do Not Disturb sign is up – and everyone can read it and obliges.

Most of the time, we pick a place that has free breakfast and a late checkout, so I can roll out of bed when I feel like it, grab a bowl of oatmeal or whatever and a coffee. So long as hubs doesn’t have anywhere to be, I take my time coming home. Maybe grab a real brunch somewhere, or shop for something I haven’t had time or patience to do with the kids. I enjoy being just me for a little while, and it’s absolutely the best gift ever.

Then, when the magic ends, a new magic happens when I walk in the door. The kids scream when they hear me, pile on and give me hugs as if I’ve been gone for an eternity, and the hubs gives me a high five and tags himself out.


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