A Lunch Date

I had lunch with friends today.

I chopped an onion and browned my favorite kind of sausage and made a homemade spaghetti sauce of sorts. I served it over penne - because something about the shape and texture of penne is so much more lunch date-ish than spaghetti noodles.

I climbed onto my trusty red stool and reached up into the cabinets where only the special dishes are kept and pulled down my favorite lemony yellow pasta bowl. I drained and ladled al dente pasta topped with sweet and savory sauce into my favorite bowl - instead of into my typical choice of a plastic, kids bowl that is convenient and so "everyday" that it's always within an arms reach.

I poured myself a large glass of iced tea. Because I'm a Southern girl at heart - and, my favorite lunches are always served alongside a glass of sweet tea.

I sat down on a stool at my kitchen counter, gently unfolded a yellow striped cloth napkin and draped it across my lap, and I consciously and guiltlessly turned down the sounds of my boys rollicking in the next room to a muted muffle.

I relished every bite of my homemade lunch while I laughed at the Facebook statuses of my friends and family, read in detail delightful blog posts and emails full of updates and pictures and life stories from friends living afar, and read through the blog comments you all had left for me.

It was a wonderful lunch date.

It was a lovely midday escape from my work. It was a small reminder that even though I can't pick up my purse, leave my cubical, and walk down to the waterfront at Baltimore's Inner Harbor for lunch with my friends like I once could - that in the midst of stay at home motherhood - today doesn't have to be everyday.

Today doesn't have to be defined as mundane. Humdrum. Same ol'.

This simple lunch date was so much more satisfying and energizing than my normal lunch of peanut butter and jelly crusts - horked down while cleaning up spills and scrubbing countertops and wiping jelly fingerprints from the front of my shirt.

I felt connected and encouraged.

As the ding of my fork on the bottom of my favorite yellow pasta bowl signaled that the end of my stolen lunch date was near, I closed my eyes and savored every last bit of my "not your everyday" Momma lunch.

I closed my computer and headed back to my cubicle. Some might call it the laundry room.

But, I just have to tell you. Even though I can't do it as often as I'd like, I so enjoyed my midweek lunch date.

With you.