I'm going on vacation tomorrow (hello, Bahamas!). I'm excited. I'm excited even though my "tankini" bathing suit from Target may make me look pregnant, and I'm excited even though I have absolutely no idea if I'll be able to go without Facebook for five days straight. In fact, there's just one catch: I'm going without Andrew.
I've never spent a big chunk of time sans kids. When Andy was two months old, I flew to New Orleans for a friend's wedding, but I was in some kind of post-baby hormonal coma and had no trouble leaving. Truthfully, I was giddy to sleep through the night in a quiet hotel room. But now things are different. Andy's almost two. He has a real personality. He calls me "Mama." He sleeps through the night. What can I say? I'm going to miss the guy.
I never thought I'd feel antsy about leaving him. After all, he'll be with Brian, who out-moms me on numerous occasions. I am not afraid that they'll eat nothing but congealed pizza. I am not afraid that Andy will turn into a TV-addicted zombie with rotting teeth and a mangy diaper. Nope, they'll have a great time together. They'll be fine. But will I?
Oh, I'm sure my tricked-out tropical resort will be positively lovely. And I do know that I'm going to have a luscious time. It's hard not to when it's 80 degrees outside and your biggest problem is deciding which daiquiri to order. But I'm also realizing, as I pack, that it's so easy to take for granted the cozy rhythms of the life that we create for ourselves, day in and day out.
I'm not talking about the big, draining things, like work and commuting and picking your kid up from day care and strapping him into his horrible car seat. (Ours has buckles that always twist and flatten his crotch so much that I worry I'll never have grandchildren each time I hear it click.) Am I happy that I won't have to work? Yes! Am I happy that I will actually go five days without changing a nose-twirling diaper? Yes! And I really loathe that carseat.
But I'll miss shoving Andy's pudgy feet into his blue sneakers. I'll miss his throaty giggle as I zip up his fleece. I'll miss his "happy feet" dance. I'll miss watching Yo Gabba Gabba with him from our perch on the couch. I'll miss holding his little paw in the morning as we walk down the stairs. There's nothing quite like a vacation to remind you how much you appreciate your "real" life.
That said, I'm also ready for a daiquiri.
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