My space pod

I tend to complain in the evening on Facebook.

If we are FB friends, you likely know this. You may even be all, seriously, Lisa and bedtime again? Can't she get a grip? Set up a routine? Stop whining?

No. I mean, yes, we have a routine. But for the rest, it seems that I cannot quite get there.

Dinner, bath (not nightly, although usually a pleasant part of the evening), teeth brushing, into jammies, bedtime...all of these things are a potential nightly struggle. Some nights they are ALL a struggle. Some nights, none of them. This is rare. Usually there is at least one activity that incites belligerence.

If I can get them past brushing their teeth and into their jammies, we tend to be good. We will sit together and read, and then, with minor struggles, get into bed.

This isn't to say that some nights India doesn't protest wildly. Usually I stay with her until she falls asleep. This can take a long time. Sometimes I have stuff to do, and when she seems like she's asleep I get up as quietly as I can and she is all, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

Sometimes I say I'm going to take a shower, which is true.

And then when I tiptoe past, naked because I always forget to bring my jammies, she is all, "Hey! Still awake! You're back!"

Most nights if I get up before she's asleep I tell her I'm going to clean the kitchen. She told my mom, "At night Mama kisses me and goes to clean the kitchen."

She typically makes me promise to come back. Sometimes she falls asleep before I do, but that is rare.

Recently she stayed up for over an hour yodeling and making dying goat noises.

Yes. I get it. You don't want to go to sleep.

But back to my evening lamentations.

One night my dear friend Banna, who has a grown child, said, "What you need is a space pod and a bottle of vodka."

And I was all, yes! WHERE IS MY SPACE POD AND BOTTLE OF VODKA?

Since then, this space pod has been my imaginary little safe haven. Let's ignore the fact that I never, ever want to go to outer space. Nor am I all that interested in vodka.

Really, it's more like my I Dream of Jeannie bottle. Somewhere personal, fabulous, cushioned, and indulgent for me to retreat to. I add to it regularly.

My space pod so far has the following:

• Super comfy couches
• Squooshy pillows
• The absolute perfect temperature, whatever that means on any given day
• Wine and martinis
• An endless supply of M&Ms
• Oh, and Reese's cups
• A soft serve ice cream dispenser under which you can fit your face for easy consumption
• All the 80s music ever, plus the option of David Bowie and Prince on endless loop
• Orange Gatorade
• "New Yorker" magazines. Which sit in a pile under a sign that reads "NO GUILT!"
• Shelves of delicious fiction and difficult-childhood memoirs
• Amazon Prime and Netflix and a really easy to use remote control where you never click something and then have no idea how to get all those commands off the screen or why you suddenly have French subtitles.

A friend asked how I'm going to dispense ice cream straight into my mouth in zero gravity and I was all, uh. Hmm.

The truth is, I hadn't actually thought about going anywhere.

I love my children more than my own life. I like Earth and I like gravity. This is where I belong.

I mean, I know I've been rhapsodizing about my space pod. But it wasn't ever meant for space. Really, it could even be, you know, a big closet.

Space pod just sounds better. In fact, it sounds a hell of a lot better than WHERE IS MY CLOSET AND BOTTLE OF VODKA?

Which actually sounds rather alarming and problematic, no?

Really, I am just mentally constructing a little retreat space that is entirely my own. With a lot of imaginary stuff that makes it perfect. It is my mental refuge from the entire world.

I intend to keep calling it my space pod.

What would your space pod have?