I love being a wife and mother. Almost all of the time. Even when it involves settling arguments and cleaning spills, crayon on the wall and worse. But once in a while, a girl needs a break, if only to recharge, sleep in, drink wine and maybe clean out the basement.
I had golden dreams of just such a time this past weekend (the first time in at least two years I've been given such an opportunity. TWO. YEARS. ). I had brunch plans with a friend. Thoughts of a luxurious morning in bed. Maybe a stop at my favorite ice cream place.
And then, right as my husband was about to leave with the girls, he comes home to find my oldest sobbing, with a 102 degree temperature, on my lap. And me, about to sob right along with her.
My husband did try to give me something akin to it. I did get to sleep in. I did get some time off (to visit the farmer's market, and weed our gardens). But it's not the same.
Fortunately, we're planning to try again in a few weeks. Until then, I'll limp along, dreaming of the momcation that could have been.
I had grand plans for myself a few weeks ago. The first time I would be alone in our house overnight in over eight years. Alone. I whispered it and it felt delicious. Until my husband called me to tell me my youngest was throwing up. Home he came. Alone no more.
Posted by: Kerry | August 26, 2010 at 04:29 PM