As the snow drifts down over northern New Jersey, I’m counting the hours and hoping that this storm is over by mid-evening. You see, Red and I are slated to board a plane tomorrow morning, and head south to a warm sandy beach for five glorious days of child-free relaxation.
Five days with no diapers, no spit-up, no messy faces, and no meltdowns because my paper airplane won’t fly straight. Five days without having to read I am a Bunny 7 times in a row before the crack of dawn. Don’t get me wrong, I Am A Bunny is a literary classic with twists and turns, and a whizz bang ending that nobody saw coming, but after the 5th read before the sun comes up, you’re open to other contemporary works like Moo Bah LaLaLa , One Fish Two Fish, or everybody’s favorite, There’s A Cow in the Cabbage Patch. I hear Oliver Stone is considering a Moo Bah film starring Jude Law as the dancing cow, but I digress…
Assuming our plane gets off the runway tomorrow morning, 5 days with no kids will be the longest stretch alone together for Red and I since Little Miss was born just under 4 years ago. This should not be surprising to anyone with young children, 5 days is a long time to ask anyone to babysit. Thank you Mom and Dad. Thank you. I’d warn them that they will need a week to recuperate from tending a one year old and a soon to be four year old, but I think they already know. Red and I are very lucky.
My backpack is packed, my Ipod is charged, and there are movies downloaded to the tablet for evening viewing. We plan to beach, snorkel, and maybe even, just maybe… sleep in. Whoah. That likely means I’ll be wide awake at 8am, but who cares right? I won’t be forced out of bed to change a diaper and run through the same breakfast cereal options I ran through the day before. “You need to SEE the boxes to decide? Really? Seriously? Again? Same boxes as yesterday… ok then, cereal always has been a visual medium…” This may sound like a lot of common parental griping, but it’s not. I’m just so pumped about the free time right in front of me that it’s hard to contain myself. I can’t even remember what I did with all my time before children. I know I filled my days, but it’s hard to remember how.
Nowadays a normal Saturday includes multiple loads of laundry, dishes, diapers, a morning activity, gymnastics class, and several meals (theirs, not yours), before noon. When I was 23 I’m sure there were Saturdays where I slept in till noon. I couldn’t sleep till noon now if I tried. I’d have to stay awake till 5am but I couldn’t stay up to 5am if I really wanted too… and why would anyone stay up till 5am? Crazy talk. So as the snow falls I’m counting the hours. There’s a Cow in the Cabbage Patch you say? Well there’s a Daddy on a plane to the Caribbean, and he’ll look into that cow situation in approximately 5 days.