Is "Mommy Time" a Myth?

I don't consider myself to be a very demanding mother. After the girls clean the house every morning, all they have to do is give me a back rub and then they have 1 hour of free time until they need to start making dinner. It's not like I'm asking for the moon or anything, right?

Okay, seriously, though, I think my kids have it pretty good: loving parents, lots of play time, minimal responsibility. Why, oh why, then, when I need a moment to myself, are they unable to deliver? I interact with them all morning while trying get stuff done around the house, I usually sit down with them for breakfast and lunch (and always dinner), I referee when needed, and I even have special mommy time with J during Savanna's nap. Is it enough? Never! All I really need is just a few minutes every day to check e-mail, do discussion questions, etc., and it has become apparent that I cannot do so without being accompanied by one or two very cute (yet very loud) little girls to the computer room. (When I say "accompanied," I really mean that they follow me to the computer room and want to sit on my lap. Or spin my chair. Or ask for something every two seconds.) I've learned that trying to explain that "mommy needs just a few minutes" to a two and four year old is very much like trying to teach a baked potato to be a Camaro; it just doesn't work, no matter how bad you want it. Threats, yelling, or even plain old fashioned ignoring them just don't seem to do the trick. Wherever I go, there they are, unable to give me the only thing I ever really ask of them: a few moments of silence.

So, I've become convinced that mommy time doesn't exist anywhere in the universe, that it is just something put there in the parenting books to make us second guess ourselves and fall asleep every night wondering, where on earth did I go wrong?

Admittedly, the best answer I've ever gotten about the lack of alone time in my life came from one of the very culprits responsible for its painful absence. After sneaking upstairs one day while the girls were playing, I was folding laundry in my room when I started to hear the familiar footsteps up the stairs, and calls of "Mommy, where are you?" Like every other day, they had caught me red-handed in a moment of escape from them. In they trotted, making themselves at home, and I asked Julia in exasperation, "Why do you guys always find me?" She responded matter of factly, jumping up and down on the bed, and said, "Because we love you!"

There you have it folks. It may mean never going to the bathroom by myself again, but I'll take it.