I went away for the weekend, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.
On Thursday afternoon, I flew to Salt Lake City for the Sewing Summit. (Oh yes, it was supremely awesome and fabric-geeky.) It was just for me, just for fun. I was BY MYSELF. Oh, the luxury of traveling without children. I had a four-hour layover at JFK, and I could not possibly have cared less. In fact, it was great. I was in the JetBlue terminal, which means I managed to get a manicure, have some mighty fine sushi, and charged my phone and iPad at one of about a million outlets while I enjoyed the free wifi. Layover, schmayover.
Once in Salt Lake, though I certainly enjoyed the company and conversation of my fellow fabric junkies, the best part is that my time was completely my own. Want to go for a walk to the nearest Starbucks? No problem. Back up to my hotel room for a late-afternoon nap? Why not! Oh, it was glorious.
Here’s the thing: I barely thought about my kids at all. Oh, sure, I talked about them from time to time. The people I met certainly knew I had kids. I called to say hello. But I was not consumed by missing them, I was not worried about them in the slightest. Though it was technically M’s first time having all three kids to himself for a whopping four days (hell, I would have complained if *he* was going to be out of town that long), it’s not as though I doubted his ability to make it work. Everyone was well taken care of, fed, bathed, snuggled, the whole nine yards. For crying out loud, he’s a great dad. Not some random babysitter I picked up off the street.
How did the kids do? Are you kidding? It was Fun Dad Weekend. They had gorgeous weather and ate dinner outside. They took baths in the dark with glow bracelets. They went to a fair with their aunt. They gave me a hug when I left, and that was the end of it. I got back and they talked my ear off, picking right up where we left off. None of the post-absence punishment that we used to see when they were toddlers. Nope, my mellow four-year-olds know what it means when I say I’ll be home in four days, and they’re not concerned in the least. Hallelujah.
On the way back from Salt Lake City, I took an overnight in Denver to visit my newly-relocated brother and his family, including my nephew and brand-new niece. It was fun to be with the kids, especially since they ultimately weren’t mine and I could hand them right back when anyone got fussy.
Truly, this weekend was a big win for everyone. Sure, M was pretty tired by the end of it. But he got some serious kiddo time, and practically put me to shame with how neat the house was when I got back. The kids had a blast of a weekend, and barely noticed or cared that I was gone. And me? Oh, it was so full of win, I barely know where to begin. But for sure, I came back refreshed and happy. A little jet-lagged and a sore back from sleeping in a recliner at my brother’s house, but totally worth it.
Get away. Every now and then, just get away. The fresh air will do you all wonders.