My husband is doing the unthinkable — traveling with our 16-month-old (by himself) to NY to visit his folks. May the force be with him. I’ve double, triple, quadruple asked if he really feels okay about doing this himself, and as it turns out, he does. I have truly married the best man ever.
And you know what this means? Mama gets some good, old-fashioned mama time! Woot woot! Yeehaw! Holla!
My boys leave at 1:15 on Friday (that’d be today) and return at 11:00 on Sunday. Everything in between? Me. Just me. By myself. Alone. With no one to take care of. My head is spinning. What to do, what to do? How to maximize the potential of this mommy vaca?
I suppose a lot of folks would call up friends and perhaps plan an extravagant night out. But being a true introvert, I’m so all good with hangin’ with little ol’ me. (Not that I’d refuse your offers to hang, but I have loner tendencies.) So I don’t have any particularly grand plans, but I have come up with a manifesto for my weeekend.
manifesto: a public declaration of intentions, motives, or views
I will get a mani/pedi.
I will drive 20 minutes on my quest for the perfect latte.
I will read an entire book. I will write.
I will sleep. A lot. Whenever I want and with the AC blasting.
I will dry my hair; I may even style it. I will wear make-up.
I will drink an alcoholic beverage. Or two.
I will talk to my BFF. This, in fact, is the only scheduled event I have. She lives in Oregon and we don’t get to chat as much as we’d like. She’s my homegirl.
I will continue my couch to 5K “running” plan (and yes, I put running in quotation marks as I’ve just started and sucking wind while jogging for sixty second intervals hardly qualifies as running.) Aside: I hate to run but have it in my head that I want to run a 5K some day. I don’t know why. I’ve never been a runner. I joined track in high school to keep in shape for basketball and ended up throwing discus and javelin. Turns out I was remarkably good at throwing stuff. And not so good at running.
I will dust off the Wii Fit. I may even use it, um, if I can remember how.
I will miss the boys.
I will not run ten loads of laundry and clean my entire house…but I will be honest enough to admit I will do some of this.
I will not go to the grocery store. I will not go to Target.
I will not feel (too much) shame at driving our 11-year-old car because the hubs needs the new one to travel with Boo. I will not complain that I feel like a Flintstone.
I will go somewhere, like to the local botanic garden, a lake, or the movies.
I will not feel guilty.