Alone

I’m alone.

I’m alone in a hotel with two queen beds and plenty of room, 4 towels rolled up in the bathroom and I get to use the entire bottle of shampoo myself. I don’t have to ration it between 4 people and I can actually watch whatever I want on the TV. The remote is mine.

When I worked for a hotel chain, I would often travel from one property to another and I would check in to the hotel myself. But that was back when I was single. And being alone when you’re single is pretty much an every day occurrence. Being alone when you are a Mom to three children is pretty much a never-gonna-happen occurrence. The closest I get is a weekend away with my husband, but the last time I checked, being with my husband isn’t being alone and I don’t get to use all the towels myself and I always have to share the shampoo bottle.

I’ve traveled to events and conferences while being married with kids, but I always had a roommate or two. Or three. Or four. When I made the hotel reservation for the conference I’m at this weekend, I fully intended to have a roommate. When that didn’t happen, I made a bold choice: keep the room all to myself.

I’m alone.

I’m alone in this big hotel room and it’s quiet. I hear the laughter of kids down the hall and some light traffic outside, but inside here it’s quiet and still. I turned the TV on because I had full control… and as I surfed through the channels, I realized there was absolutely nothing I wanted to watch. I thought about reading a book, but after an entire day of listening to speakers, I didn’t think I could absorb any more information tonight.

I’m at that point where I’m kind of hungry, but not really hungry enough to venture out to find real food. The thought of going down to the noisy lobby cafe is unappealing. The room service menu is just so-so and I’m not inclined to spend $25 just for a turkey sandwich and potato chips. Lucky for me, the little bag I got from the conference for being a Speaker has candy in it. Yes, I am that woman who is lying in a big bed all by herself, typing out a blog post and eating bon bons. Sue me.

I feel a little like a cliche, but then again… I’m a Mom. And how often do I get to truly be alone? 

I’m alone all the time in my own house. The kids all go to school on a daily basis, but I never have an empty house. With two dogs and stacks of laundry, dishes piling up in the sink and always something to be done, sitting quiet in my house is not an option.

In a hotel room, there is no laundry or dishes to do. There is no cleaning up after yourself. I don’t have to cook anything or fix anything or let the dogs out. I’m just here. With my thoughts.

And so I do a lot of thinking, and I do a lot of writing. And I am relishing the peace and the fact there are no screams or shrieks or kids yelling, “Mooooooooooommmmmmmmmeeeeeeeee.”

I love my quiet time. I love my time alone. I should soak it all up because I’m pretty sure it might be another 20 years before it happens again. And as I lay in this big bed, my heart is hurting a little. I’m suddenly thinking of 4 people who are back home in a noisy, messy, dirty, laundry sorting, dishes piling house. I think about 2 dogs barking and scratching to be let out. I think of kids arguing about who gets to use which Barbie Doll and which pattern bracelet they’ll make on the Rainbow Loom. I think about not kissing my girls goodnight, about not having my dogs jump up on my bed, about not being able to snuggle up next to a warm husband.

I am alone.

And while I love it… I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do it again for a while. Maybe in another 20 years.