MOM ON THE RUN: Empty house comes with benefits as well as drawbacks

“OK, guys,” I announce to everybody, projecting my voice up past the cube walls. “What should I get for dinner tonight?”

“Ohh …” A chorus of dreamy voices erupts around me. “Isn’t it time for Mexican again?” says Sandra. She knows my abiding love for cheese enchiladas. “Have you done Chinese?” asks Penny. “Hmm,” Noelle says, pondering the vast carry-out world of possibilities.

“Dinner?” That’s Lora. She’s our sales rep and usually out of the office, so she’s not up to date on our gossip. “Why are you asking?” “Because my whole family is out of town,” I explain. “Again?” she asks. “Again,” I tell her. “For the third and final week this summer. Various camps and trips. So I’ve pretty much had all the local carry-out dinners. I just can’t decide what to get tonight.”

And Lora doesn’t hesitate, not for a second: “Ice cream!” Then she starts laughing.

“Ice cream?” Penny sounds flat-out shocked, as if she would never consider such an abomination.

“Absolutely, ice cream!” crows Lora. “It’s hot out, and it’s something you would never do with your kids around.”

“Huh,” I say, thinking about it. Lora’s right, I would definitely never serve my kids just ice cream for dinner. Breakfast foods, sure, waffles and cereal. Or fast food. But just ice cream? Um, no.

At first blush, it doesn’t really sound appealing. But the more I think about it: yeah, I’ve had a dull, constant craving for Nathan’s soft-serve since early July, when it finally got really hot, and I’ve only succumbed twice — and both times, I only indulged in kiddie-size chocolate cones (though once, they accidentally put it into a cup, and of course I require a cone, and when they re-did it, they did it much larger than a kiddie size, and I couldn’t just waste it, I ate the whole thing!). A dinner of Nathan’s, a big bowl of ice cream … Peach is the flavor of the day, according to the Facebook page. Oh …
But … “I don’t think I can do it,” I admit, slightly embarrassed. “Maybe after dinner, but ice cream for the actual meal, that’s too sweet. And I’d be hungry again really soon.”

The conversation drifts away for a minute as everyone considers my dilemma. “So what have you been doing with yourself?” asks Penny.

“Not much,” I tell her. “I did all the laundry in the house yesterday, and it was only two small loads. I’ve read a couple of books. And I haven’t turned the TV on yet.”

Simultaneously: “What did you read?” from Penny, a grandmother who knows what having no kids in the house is like, and “You haven’t turned the TV on?” incredulously, from Sandra, who has two little ones and a steady dull roar in her house.

“Nope, no TV,” I tell Sandra first. “It’s so nice to have the quiet. And I read ‘Julie and Julia,’ from the movie — I’m never going to see the movie, so when I saw the book at Costco I grabbed it — and I just started ‘Twilight.’ Jen’s making me read it.”

“I can’t imagine being all alone,” says Sandra, and, having been in her shoes not too long ago, I know what she means.

“It is strange,” I admit. I turn to face Lora’s cube again — it’s silly, I can’t see anyone, but still, I turn to look at where each of them sits — “Lora, what do you do?” Lora’s the only one of us here who actually lives alone, who has no interrupting husband or noisy kids or dirty dogs.

“Whatever I want,” she says. “I go for bike rides, I read books, I visit friends.” She makes it sound ideal, but …

“I’m having a hard time adjusting,” I tell her. “The first few days were great, but this is getting long now.”

“I know,” Lora says. “I know.” And we all fall silent again.

Lianne Wilkens lives with her family in Manassas. She can be reached at , or follow her on Twitter @MessengerMOTR.