This past weekend, I experienced the “Mommy” equivalent of winning the lottery.
My inlaws took the kids for the weekend.
(cue Angels playing their harps)
Thursday, when they arrived, I was NOT happy about the idea of handing my kiddos off. Pretty ironic since the majority of my posts lately have all focused on the theme of “needing a break.”
I wanted and needed a break . . . just didn’t (really) want to say good-bye to the Little Lady and Mr. Boy.
What would it be like? How would I adjust to not holding someone all day long? What would I DO with myself and the quiet that comes when the kiddos are gone?
I was nervous. Worried. Anxious.
What if my Mother-in-law forgets to apply their sunscreen and they get burns? What if they forget to change Mr. Boy’s diaper? What if, while at the beach, they get so wrapped up in one child that they forget the other one . . . and the waves come. . . and knock my poor kidlet over. . . or, even worse, drag them out into the GULF????
Yeah, crazy. I know. But that horrible situation happened in my nightmares and THAT was what I thought about all Friday morning as I packed their bags.
As my In-laws drove away, burdened with the stroller, the pack-n-play, diapers, formula, snacks, toys, sunscreen, and every sippy cup to be found this side of Houston, I felt scared and naked.
Naked? Yup. Naked.
It was the first time in . . . good grief, I don’t know HOW LONG that I did NOT have a child in my arms.
You know what? They survived — as did I.
Even better than just surviving? I slept. Read a new book. Visited with friends. Slept some more. Held my husband’s hands.
24 hours into the baby-break, I felt like a new woman myself again. I had no idea how strung-out and exhausted I truly was until I had a moment to relax. Worry free. No schedule. No routine.
Me-time: it’s a beautiful thing.
(Of course, the moment my kidlets were home, I hugged and squeezed and loved on them. ‘Cause, yeah — I missed them. But, shhhhhh! Don’t tell them; I know they’ll conspire together and use that info against me!)
