Posted By jayna on September 20, 2013
In just a few short hours, I’m going to slip out the front door. My luggage is already in the car, rushed down the stairs and out during naptime. There will be kisses for the big girls ,and some for Tatey while he isn’t paying attention. But no send off, no waving as I pull out the drive and down the street. No. It’s easier that way, if I just slip out, unnoticed and not missed, until someone wonders where on earth their Mommy has gone to.
This has never happened before.
(Unless you count those pesky hospital stays when bringing someone new into the family, but yeah. No.)
For two whole days . . . 48 long and glorious hours . . . I will be on my own. The music will be as loud and profanity laced as I can find, the food will be as divine and irresponsibly thought out as possible, and my purse will be as light as a purse ever could be. I will be zipping down the freeway towards a land of no schedules, responsibilities or dinners diced into non choking-hazard pieces. Instead of a toddler hanging on my pants, or pulling my skirt down in front of the school pickup crowd, I’ll be seeing real, live adults. Adults that can usually talk like mature and intelligent human beings, instead of rolling their eyes at me and declaring “so what” or “yeah right” every two sentences like a certain six year old I know.
The husband is shooing me along on my way, encouraging an extra night away for the full optimal sleep experience. He’s got this, we all say. The baths and the dinners and the mismatched clothes that they’ll put on in the morning, it’s a cake walk. The tantrums and the sleep stalling and the endless whines for a moooo-viieeeee, those will be harder, but conquerable. I’ll pull out the drive with nary a list to be left and know full well I am leaving quite the catch in charge here. There is no Mr. Mom in this house, and that’s just the way it should be. He’s got this.
Perhaps I’ve left it too easy?
I should have scheduled three well child visits. With flu shots. And immunizations. Followed by a triple dentist appointment. And a haircut.
But that would just be cruel.
Instead I’ll just enjoy the thought of not corralling an angry, jealous toddler at soccer in the morning, and missing the mid-afternoon melt-downs. I’ll go to sleep tonight, ready to sprawl like a starfish across the bed and know full well that I won’t be waking up to a small pair of feet in my face at 3 in the morning. No midnight diaper changes and no escorting a sleep walker back to bed. With no alarms, no shouts for breakfast or fights to separate, I may even pull a solid 8 hours of restful sleep. I’m not sure my body will know what to do if given to the chance to actually reach REM, but the opportunity will surely be there. For two entire nights. Two glorious, blissful, wonderful nights.
(Who am I kidding? I’ll probably wake up every half hour in a cold sweat wondering where I am, hearing phantom cries, and hanging off the edge of the bed with no covers out of habit.)