Mommy's Day Out

My assignment is simple: "Go out and have a good time." I know how to do that. Finally, I can go grocery shopping! "Don't just run errands," my mother-in-law says as she takes my place at the kitchen table, where my daughter is making a "cake" out of orange and pink Play-Doh. "Do what you want to do." What? Whatever I want?

I have two hours all to myself. No kids, no husband, no responsibilities...for two hours. I've already made my grocery list: milk, bread, bananas, string cheese, juice, chewable vitamin C, yogurt, cereal, carrots, ranch dip, frozen waffles, strawberries, grapes, popcorn, honey-roasted cashews, cheese pizza...

Maybe instead of grocery shopping, I could go to Toys 'R' Us and get my son that Star Wars LEGO set he's been wanting for the past year; he's saved enough money for it and keeps asking me to take him out to buy it. I could get it and put it in the backseat so that when I pick him up at school, it'll be the first thing he sees. He'll be so excited!

No. I've gotta think of something I want to do. Something that has nothing to do with taking care of other people. I'm free (for two hours)! Time to pamper myself.

I say bye to my daughter and get into my car and drive. Driving with no destination in mind is fun and carefree, right? Something I used to do when I was a teenager. I pretend I don't have a destination, but really I do. My car drives straight to Toys 'R' Us. My legs take me to the LEGO aisle. No sign of the LEGO Republic Attack Gunship that comes with Plo Koon and Commander Cody and Asajj Ventress and costs $129. Damn!

I drive to the next-closest Toys 'R' Us store. Score! The Republic Attack Gunship's box is so big, it sticks out the top of the shopping bag. I put it in the backseat, next to my son's booster seat, and imagine myself asking my son, "Who's the coolest Mom in the world?" He'll be so overjoyed, he'll hug me and shout, "YOU! YOU are the coolest Mom!" And then I'll tell him he owes me $129. Ha! I won't make him pay the sales tax because I really am the coolest Mom.

I've still got some time to pamper myself. Uhhh. What did I do before I had kids, on days when I didn't have to work or run errands?

The mall. I used to love going to the mall. It's on the way to my son's school, so I find a parking place close to the Barnes & Noble entrance. My mother-in-law had mentioned that I might like to wander around in a bookstore. I want whatever I do to be my own idea, though, not my mother-in-law's, so I walk right past Barnes & Noble. I know where there's a Payless Shoes. I used to buy new, cheap shoes all the time. I wasn't always so practical; I didn't used to look at all the new shoes on display and think, "I could buy a couple of pizzas for the same amount of money. I don't need new shoes."

I buy some blue shoes that aren't on sale. $27. Am I having fun yet?

Why does everyone think I need to get out and have a good time? I stroll past orange prom dresses, hot-pink push-up bras, leather handbags, little girl's Easter dresses, sparkling engagement rings, a SpongeBob cookie cake, the two-story carousel I used to bring my daughter to before she got sick. If I brought her here now, she'd have to wear a mask, and everyone would stare at us (or purposely not look at us) and wonder what was wrong with her. Almost bald. Too pale. Brown circles around her eyes.

Leukemia.

It's okay. I'm okay. We're doing okay.

It's time to pick up my son, thank God. When he gets into my car, the first thing he asks is, "Can we go buy the Republic Gunship, Mommy?" Then he sees it. His smile is glorious.

"You got it?! Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!" He yells out the window to his friends, "I got it! I got it!" and lifts up the huge box.

"I hope it's worth $129," I say, grinning. Then we drive to the grocery store and buy every single item on my list.

My daughter runs to the kitchen when she sees me bringing grocery bags in. "Did you get me more string cheese, Mommy?"

"Of course. It's right here, baby."

My son is already cutting open the bags of LEGO pieces. My daughter watches him, sensing his excitement, bouncing, laughing, munching her string cheese. I slip on my new shoes and ignore how they pinch the sides of my feet.

"Did you have a good time, honey?" my mother-in-law asks me.

"Yeah. Thanks." I'll never admit that the grocery shopping was the best part.