As I sit down to write this post, my eyes dart up at the time. I have exactly 20 minutes left. Exactly 2 hours and 20 minutes ago I left my two children with a trusted babysitter. In exactly 19 minutes I have to pack up and drive home. Today is the first day of “my time,” as I have it marked in my calendar, a few hours one morning a week, every week until the end of August. This was a deliberate creation, something I needed, time to be something other than “mommy.” Time for me to get immersed in my other selves: gardener, blogger, someone who would enjoy a massage or a quiet walk all on her own. I did contemplate getting the car washed, but then decided that falls into the same category as grocery shopping and other such errands, not things that were intended for these three precious hours.