This past week I was able to go away, alone. Before the trip I was nervous because the truth is I take care of the kids and the household way differently than my husband. He does a great job his way and I do a great job my way. Being as the kids spend way more time in any given week with me, I didn't know if he would disrupt their schedule. Which would make for an extremely rough time for him. But they all survived. And once I left the house and was seated on the plane...I really wasn't nervous.
I flew to Vegas to meet an old college friend and we reminisced and relived our twenty's by attending to NKOTB concerts. I was glad to be able to attend them both with her and it was nice to be able to do anything I wanted. Which ended up being a lot of nothing. And I actually was able to have adult conversation without being interrupted. I forgot how good it is to talk without interruption. And the truth is, I wasn't homesick or really rushing to get back. I think I could have stayed a full 7 days without hesitating. Does that make me a bad mom? Maybe. A bad wife? Probably.
I came back tired, which was expected. But apparently I also came back a bit detached according to my husband. I think I just was not ready to jump back into my ho-hum mommy life. And I should have been right? 5 years of kids all up on me and I take three nights off...I should have been itching to come back? I should have been crying tears of gladness that I was back? I don't know...most days I feel like I am doing this parenting thing all wrong. And it's a lifetime job! My kids are smart, healthy, happy and yet I can't seem to keep it together. Or get it together.
I want more time away. Heck I think I will settle for a day or two in a hotel...literally not leaving the bed except to pea. Or answer for room service. Holla!