On Friday night, I had no plans. Perfect opportunity to relax and do my own thing. I dropped off my oldest daughter back at school a few minutes earlier. She was going to an organizational with her school’s chamber orchestra. My younger two kids were playing outside with friends. My husband was trying to figure out the new printer that his office sent to him. A perfect time for “me time”. The problem was, I didn’t have a place I could call my own.

The garage or basement is often set aside as the “man cave”. It is a place for them to decorate (or not) and hang out doing the things they enjoy. The best part is that while in the man cave, the man and his stuff are left alone. The buzz word for women is the “mom cave”. There are so many things wrong with that. Why is it a MOM cave? First of all, do you have to be a mom to have one? Seems a little unfair. And if you are a mom, does MOM need to define you even when you want to relax and do your own thing?

Regardless of what it was called, I was going to find a quiet place to relax. I poured myself a glass of wine and put some blackberries in a bowl. I grabbed my book and headed….where could I go?

Basement? No. I work down there all week. It’s all about the dogs and kids down there.

Next. Family room? No, the big TV is in there -popular place.

Quiet living room? No. Husband made a mess with printer and was playing a variety of weird music on his computer.

Deck? No, too cold yet. Kids are outside anyway.

That left my bedroom. I have a nice glider that sits in the bedroom that is really a catch-all for my husband. I decided this was the best place for my Pam Cave. After moving all the clothes out of the way, I placed my wine on the cheap plastic table that I bought just for that purpose. I sat down and opened the book. Perfect! Unfortunately, our cat thought it would be a good idea to announce that he wanted an early dinner and meowed until I got up to feed him. Just as I got up, one of the dogs came in and chased the cat around the room before settling down next to my chair. Not too relaxing so far.

Minutes later, my daughter ran upstairs looking for a game that she was having trouble finding. Stopping my book in mid-sentence, I told her where it was. She said that she still couldn’t find it. I got up to look for it and arrived in the kitchen just as she was pulling it out. When I got back upstairs, I sat back down and tried to read. My husband’s music flowed up from the two story living room directly into my bedroom. I got up to shut the door to block it out. Peace again! Five minutes later, my son flung open the door. He was looking for my iPad. He found it where he left it that morning on my dresser. Before he left, he rustled up the dog, who chased the cat one more time before the dog and my son left the room together. They left the door open so I got to hear the music again. Whatever. I wasn’t going to get up again. After settling back into my book, my daughter yelled up the stairs that she was going to dinner at her friend’s house. Great! One less person.

When she was gone, I noticed that the music stopped. Wow! Finally time to relax. However, I couldn’t go back to reading my book. All those interruptions had given me a chance to look around at my Pam Cave. There was a basket of laundry that needed to be folded and a box of photos that needed to be put away. I don’t think your cave should have reminders of the things you “should” be doing. I could hear my husband starting dinner downstairs. He was lighting the stove and I could hear him clicking the starters on the burners for a long time. What was the problem? Annoyed, I closed the book and wandered back downstairs. My wine was empty and my berries were gone. I would have to explore a new Pam Cave another day.

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