Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. I really, really do. But sometimes, it’s really good to spend a few days away from my regular life. It’s good to sleep in, it’s good to eat when I feel like it, it’s good to just carry my stuff, and it’s really good to go out at night and not have to worry about the sitter, the kids, or knowing that I’ll be up at 6am dealing with a diaper, dropped pacifier, or missing sippy cup.
I go home tomorrow, back to the little girls who have wished me tearful goodnights over the phone for the last two days, back to sloppy kisses, and sweet hugs.
I have no voice left and my legs are beat from all the walking I’ve done, but I feel rested and recharged in a way I really hadn’t expected. I got to sleep, I got to play, and I got to hang out with my sisters, something that’s always a blast.
There are a few more hours (post second un-interrupted night of sleep) of family fun in the morning, then I head home. I know there’s a ton of work, two extremely clingy children, and one potentially very grumpy husband waiting for me there, but frankly I don’t care. After a day like today I feel like I can handle it all without even wiping the silly grin off my face.
Though maybe that’s because I know I’m taking another solo trip to NY at the beginning of August.