The hubby surprised me on Mother’s Day by telling me about the anniversary trip he’d planned for us. (This Friday will be our 10th anniversary! Yikes! Where does the time go?) We’re headed back to the town where it all began.
Shortly after our wedding in 1998, we moved to Washington, DC. I was fresh out of college, newly married and ready to take on the world. Looking back, I have no idea what the heck we were thinking, but it was probably the best decision we could have made for us and our marriage. Funny how things work out for the best when you trust what your soul is whispering. I should try that more often.
So, since I’ve been not-so-subtly hinting for several months that mama needs a vacation, he put one together. Some may say, DC…in July…for a romantic anniversary trip? Sounds strange, but I think it’s a perfect solution – a town we know, restaurants we love, a boutique hotel, and no peanut.
My parents are coming down Thursday to stay with the little guy while we’re away. We get back Monday and they’ll fly out from here on Tuesday to attend a conference for my dad’s work (thanks again for totally rearranging your lives to do this for us). This will be the very first time we’ve left peanut alone for longer than a date since he was born and he’s mere weeks away from being two.
I can’t even tell you how excited I am to spend that much dedicated time with the hubby without having to parent. We are great at parenting together, if I do say so myself, but in the busyness that is parenting, we often forget the hubby and wife part of the deal. I know we aren’t alone in walking that line. So I am very excited about this opportunity.
And at the same time, I’m terrified of leaving my little guy. Not because grandma and grandpa won’t do a fabulous job, because they will. Not because I think we’re going to have a bad time, because we won’t. But I’m afraid I’m going to miss him. That I’m a little less me without him. How quickly I’ve become dependent on this little guy and his routines which have become the meter of my own days. Do I even know how to be spontaneous anymore? What if I don’t miss him enough? What if he doesn’t miss me?
Oh such petty concerns that totally have my mind racing.
Luckily, I have plenty to distract me this week in preparing for my parents to live in my house without me. You know, post-its on where the extra TP/paper towels/light bulbs are, directions to the grocery store/the zoo/the hospital (just in case), outlines on peanut’s routines (cause if you don’t get the tuck-tuck right at naptime, he will let you know!), instructions on how to work all these crazy remotes. I’m sure I’m going overboard. But if it makes me feel better, I’m going to do it.
I cut one cord to my child nearly two years ago. This weekend, I will cut another, much less physical, much harder to see, and somehow much stronger cord by giving the peanut and I both a little taste of independence.
Luckily I’ve got one heckuva a great hubby to lean on while we’re gone.
And reservations at one of the best restaurants in DC the night we arrive so I can dive right into that relaxation thing one glass of champagne at a time.