Today marks the first time I have left the kids in 8 months for more than an hour or two. Today marks the first time in Olivia’s entire life that I’ve been apart from her. Today marks the first time that I haven’t been there to tuck them into bed and make them breakfast in the morning. Today I get to board a plane, sans kids, to visit my BFF, Lindsay, for her birthday. Cruising altitude? More like BOOZIN’ altitude!(I chuckled way too hard over that corny joke, btw. Did I mention it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten away?
Last time I was on a plane I had a baby strapped to my chest, a toddler in tow, and my pockets were lined with pacifiers, lollipops, and trepidation as I ventured out solo to visit my family.
There will come a time when I travel with the kids again (in 2 weeks dear God) but today is not that day. Today is for Mommy. Actually, no. Today is not for Mommy. Today is for Lynn (technically for Lindsay as it is her birthday, but bear with me) as I reclaim the part of me that isn’t a mom. For the next 48 hours I won’t have to answer the constant calls of “Mommy”. 48 hours of not having to wipe a butt other than my own. 48 hours without having to watch Ryder and his mother f’ing team of pups on yet another episode of Paw Patrol.
Before I left, I penned two letters. One to my children to explain why Mommy is taking a trip without them, which should be very helpful given they can’t read. And the other to my amazing husband who is giving me the greatest gift of all. Besides our children of course.
Dear Loves of My Life,
Mommy loves you. She really really does. But if she doesn’t get a break LIKENOW she is going to lose her shit. What does “lose her shit” mean? Well, let’s use Mickey for example. Mickey is a fun and loving mouse and he’s super excited to take care of Goofy and Donald. But as cute and fun as they are, good God, are they NEEDY. And in this case, Toodles is AWOL and the Handy Helpers can’t be around as much as they would like because they are hard at work making sure the mortgage on the Clubhouse is paid and there’s enough coins to buy bologna sandwiches and hot dogs from the Moo Mart for Goofy and Donald to eat.
All he hears for 12-14 hours straight is MICKEY, MICKEY, MICKEY, MICKEY MICKEY! Goofy and Donald are pooping constantly and can’t clean themselves so who gets stuck with it? Mickey. They also can’t feed themselves so who has to do that? Mickey. Only they don’t really feel like eating so Mickey has to
threaten bribe gently encourage them to take at least one more bite but inevitably throws most of the food away or eats it himself since he’s not quite sure where his next meal is coming from. Goofy and Donald also get bored easily despite all the cool shit inside the Clubhouse. So Mickey has to stop what he’s doing and entertain them. Sure there are some fun moments, but that kitchen is filthy and the house looks like the return counter at Target. Oh and then throw in Pluto. Pluto needs fed, walked, played with, and apparently has an issue with pooping too because Mickey is always finding Pluto turds sprinkled throughout the Clubhouse.
Then there is The Night. Just when Mickey thinks he’s going to get a break, clean up the Clubhouse, and maybe watch something on TV with a big cup of hot cocoa, either Goofy or Donald wakes up. They do it sporadically throughout the night and sometimes wake up at the same time. And no matter what, either Goofy or Donald will wake before the sun is up to do it all over again.
Repeat this for 8 months worth of episodes. Mickey is tired. Mickey has swapped out his fancy red pants with the gold buttons for more practical black yoga pants. He no longer cares what others think of his appearance. All he knows is that while he can’t imagine life without Goofy and Donald, if he can’t get at least 5 hours of consecutive sleep and go a day without cleaning up a deuce he’s going to start drinking hot cocoa during the day to cope. And maybe start giving Goofy and Donald a nip before bedtime to see if that helps them sleep better.
So you see, my sweet children, Mommy does loves you. But she needs time for her. Time to not be a mom. Time to rest. Time to recharge the battery so she can come back and be the fun, somewhat patient mom you both fell in love with.
See you in 48 hours.
Your Eternally Grateful Wife