When I looked into the drained, empty bath tub, there was a ring.  Not the kind that would have slipped off my finger, but a good, old fashioned, genuine ring of grime.  It must have formed as the water turned a funky shade of brown while the grass and dirt stains were being scrubbed off Little Guy’s knees, feet, elbows and fingertips.   

It was hard to even locate those body parts, buried not so deeply in the murky water.  And although that in and of itself – the thought of my boy soaking in a bath full of leftover yuck – is rather disgusting, it actually made me happy.  Because in order for the tub to be so completely dirty, the day must have been absolutely fabulous.

Yes, a smelly, young boy when the sun goes down is the sure sign of an awesome day spent outside.  The outdoor smell, the sticky hair, and mulch attached to socks are symbols of success.  

When Little Guy and Big Guy were small, I took these kinds of days for granted. I viewed them as exhausting. I always had to be out there, right by their sides, supervising and participating. Extreme heat, freezing cold, mild rain, or blowing wind didn’t give me an excuse.  Kids need fresh air, right? And it was hard to encourage them to go exploring down by the cul-de-sac creek when that meant wet sneakers and dirty fingernails not only for them, but for me too.

Fast forward a few years. The boys are old enough to roll around, climb high, explore and run as much as they want without me hovering over their shoulders.  I have been released from my job as the constant overseer. The disappointing part? Now that they don’t need the supervision, we’re rarely home for large chunks of time to enjoy it.

But on the days that we are, the garage, the yard, and all the surrounding driveways lead to undiscovered adventure. They’re free to roam with their neighborhood buddies, understanding the boundaries while looking out for each other.

I’ve come to think of this kind of day as the ultimate vacation day.  It’s the kind of day we can actually use our home the way it was intended to be used.  

All of a sudden the function of my house shifts from home base to a home retreat.  No longer do I find myself spewing demands such as, “Make sure you have your water bottle; we’re leaving in 5 minutes”.  Or “I see a lunchbox on the counter, whose is it?” I get a temporary reprieve from gearing up with five different bags to get us through the long afternoons that come barreling in after the school day. We have time.  

On days like today, we get to take a vacation from our usual selves. The ones that run from place to place.  Hopping in and out of cars.  Grabbing food on the run. Having brief conversations that leave us hanging as we get interrupted by the opening of the carpool door, the start of a practice or the spaghetti boiling over.

For me, even the mindless acts of folding laundry and emptying the dishwasher become slow and careful when there’s no place to rush off to. I can sit.  Read a book.  Mindlessly count the number of times the back door opens and closes as the boys run in and out.  I may even feel inspired to mop the floors. Pull weeds. Or do absolutely nothing.

For the boys, this kind of day means freedom.  Freedom to do whatever they feel.  To know there is no reason to jump out of bed.  To eat breakfast quickly. To jam in homework, dinner and baths or showers before the clock strikes 8 p.m., knowing full well that they’ll never make it under the covers by that time.

Instead, neighborhood kids float in and out as popsicles are divvied up based on favorite colors. Lacrosse sticks and hockey sticks are shared and lay strewn about until parents start calling for dinner. Footballs are thrown and the yells of touchdowns are heard while trees and bushes become secret hideouts for games created by minds with nothing on them.

It’s on days like today, when the boys fight the setting sun to get just one last basketball through the hoop or only one more goal in the net, that I am reminded of the pleasure of unscheduled time.  When they finally walk through the door only because the sky is black and dinner is getting cold. With red cheeks and cold hands, all the while sweating.  Wide eyed and giggly with so much to tell. I look at their stained clothes and wonder why we make ourselves run all the time.  

And marvel at the fact that the best day away from it all could come from just simply rolling out of bed.

Illyse appears Thursdays on TriangleMom2Mom.