I don’t want to jinx it by getting too excited, but…
My unbelievably generous and supportive mom and dad have “volunteered” (and by “volunteered”, I do mean “agreed after I begged and pleaded and cried”, but same thing) to take Eirinn to the trailer for the weekend. That means that Anonymous Husband and I can have a child-free weekend for the first time in exactly 2 years, 3 months and 5 days. And probably the last one for even longer than that.
This was my idea, after realizing my impending doom that I’ll soon be required to parent two offspring; the thought of which sent me into a panicked meltdown. Don’t get me wrong; I love and adore Eirinn more that anything else in this world, but, as all parents know, toddlers are an immense amount of work. And in a short period of time, we will be in the heat of toddler/newborn chaos. Tantrums and breastfeeding. Potty training and diaper poop-splosions. Requirements of mass quantities of attention and…requirements of mass quantities of attention.
I didn’t realize that this weekend is Father’s Day until after I had totally scheduled my weekend in my head. I ran the idea past AH and he agreed it might be nice, just as long as he can see Eirinn by dinner time on Sunday. I nearly cried with joy.
I plan to fill the 46 hours of responsibility-free time sleeping in BOTH days (we take turns now), running errands DURING NAP TIME (instead of cramming them into the morning, pre-nap), going to a GROWN UP RESTAURANT (one that screaming banshee children would be frowned upon), and maybe even catching a movie (in a theatre; not Wizard of Oz in our living room 3 times in a row).
My hopes are that this weekend will rejuvenate me, re-energize me, and give me some much needed rest. In a matter of only a couple or three weeks, I can include “rest” in the long list of Things I Used To Enjoy In My Youth.
But I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch. There is still 26 1/2 hours left before departure time. This is plenty of time for things to go awry. Like the weather forecast going from blah (as it stands now) to hideous. Or for my parents to come to their senses change their minds. Or for Eirinn to suddenly become uncharacteristically attached to me and AH and refuse to go without us. Or for our house to fall into a sinkhole or the trailer to be crushed by a falling meteor. Nature can have a nasty sense of humour sometimes, you know.