Tag: kids

Mother’s Day. The real kind.

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I am not a fan of this mothers day thing. I am intentionally seperated from my family tree mostly because of who I love.

Generally this is wonderful. It’s absolute bliss really.

However, when mothers day rolls around there is a deep pit in my stomach. A longing for unconditional love I never knew.

We celebrated a “moms’ day” Saturday instead. A full day of stuff we love as a family. Not because we had to but because we want to. An all inclusive splurge you might say. It was glorious. I felt loved. Honest and truely.

This the day of the official “Mother’s Day”,  so says the calender, started a little differently. I casually stepped over piles of laundry ignored  all week and strolled to the kitchen. I was greeted by a real life family kitchen, basically a mess of things not quite put away and a pile of dishes in the sink. I stopped and pondered who’s turn it was to load the dishwasher and I sighed deeply knowing it would be a long day of house chores.

I called to the children for help with today’s clean up. They came, with sad faces, to have left whatever it is adolescents do on the weekends.

They proceed to tell me they can not complete chores as we are out of a list of things, most importantly in this moment, dishwasher tabs. My son asks me if I picked them up yesterday. I snap back that we were together all day, how could I possibly have picked them up? I feel bad instantly. It isn’t their fault I have a deep issue with today and of all days I will spend it scrubbing toilets and folding other people’s underwear.

I sigh deeply and ask him to “please just load the dishwasher … alright?”
Seriously. Just load the damn dishwasher and stop giving me crap.

Instead of sulking and throwing plates into the rack, my child walks over to me and without saying any words just hugged me. I held him tightly and mom melted just a little, just long enough to relax.

The moment ended ubruptly when he said “no” … no?
As in no, I will not just do the dishes?

This kid.

He knows how to make me laugh. I love his sarcastic nature, he clearly gets it from me. This kid knows me. He appreciates me for who I am.

Even if he didn’t utter a single Happy Mothers Day this morning.

Even if nobody made me breakfast in bed. Let’s be honest, they didn’t even clean up their own breakfast.

But my boy hugged me so sincerely for 30 seconds I will forgive him for just about anything. Even not doing the dishes.

Vacation planning – AKA slow torture

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It’s that time of year again.

I am planning the “big” vacation. Not our mountain weekend trips or mini last-minute romantic escapes. This is the big one, where we coordinate days off, convince the kids they will love the destination and then convince ourselves we will love spending a week in close proximity  … all together in one place …. for a week.

For a family that stays as busy as we do, formally getting together for anything longer than dinner is like herding kittens in a yarn store. Nobody has the same sleeping habits, food preferences, hobbies, athletic ability or desire to leave the confines of their bedroom and personal electronics. Did I mention the kids are pre-teen & teen-aged? Good times.

This is how things generally go:

2 minutes from home – “I need to pee”

10 minutes from home – “I’m bored”

30 minutes from home – “I’m hungry”

5 minutes after pulling into the parking lot of the hotel we intend to stay at – “I think I forgot to pack underwear”

30 seconds from opening the door to our room – collective bags drop and everyone falls into the beds for napping

Then there are activities:

“Let’s go to the pool!”  … blank stare “but we have never explored this area, there are bike trails, museums, shops, historical monuments ….” blank stares, holding swimsuits. Same swimwear they always wear .. to the pool we can go to back home … for FREE.

“Let’s go visit this lighthouse! We can climb to the top and take family photos and read all about the people who lived and worked here a long time ago!” My families typical response? “Can you just take a picture, from the car, so we can go get ice cream? We passed the shop just back there.”

“Mountain trails?  uhhh … hiking? That sounds like it will be hot and there will be bugs. Is there even wi-fi?” Where did I go wrong with these kids?

“The sun is in my eyes.” … “where are your sunglasses?” … “I lost them.” We bought them this morning!

Shivering in July sun …”The water is too cold”

“I don’t like sand.” Just spent 2 hours digging a giant hole … in the sand.

“I want to go to the room, I’m bored” 100 people on the beach, books, snacks, football, waves perfect for boogie boards, random friendly dogs. Definitely nothing going on here. Nothing at all.

or my favorite – random activities from the hotel booklet things we either didn’t budget for or would cause at least one of the family members to have a panic attack. It seems the kids know just how to push my mom buttons… “Skydiving!” No.

I’m on the hunt now for someplace affordable, where nobody will be left out, or bored, or too frightened to enjoy the experience. Where there will be places to eat that everyone likes and in an area family friendly enough to be safe but not resemble a nursery rhyme.

Maybe a stay-cation is in order. Somehow I don’t think we will all agree on that either.

 

 

 

 

 

Parenthood: tales of the lesbian step-mom

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My kids are amazing. My wife is amazing. Together they are sorta a train wreck and today I feel a little like a helpless damsel in distress tied to the train tracks with nobody to save me.

This is how it all happened …

My youngest son (preteen) and my youngest daughter (barely a teen) live with my wife (acts like a teen sometimes) and I (always the mean mom) in our lovely rural home while their father lives across the country (we like it like that). This means for the bulk of the year we co-parent in my household with 2 moms. One of those moms never had an actual human child before this relationship, let alone a pair of prepubescent know it alls.

My kids love her, she is an amazing step-mom. She does everything I do as a parent plus more, mostly without complaining.

Like I said she is ahhh-mazing.

The kids absolutely agree, her meals taste better, she is more fun … she yells less. Whatever.

Then there are the days, like today. I get a text as a I exit the shower that the boy child is home. He didn’t catch the ride to school with his sister.

I wonder to myself what happened … is he sick? Should I check on him?

Then the real questions begin …. did I bring a robe to the bathroom?

Is this towel big enough to cover me if he is lurking in the hall?

Will he see me sprint naked and afraid the 3 steps from our bathroom to the bedroom door?

After the wife arrives home from the obligatory school drop off she begins to tell me the tale of 2 children. Of how the female child was dressed, back pack and shoes ready while her younger brother was most definitely not.

She describes for me in detail what happened with the boy.

He was standing in wrinkled shorts and holding his arms wide, in a gesture we can only guess was to make himself look bigger and scarier, like a grizzly bear in an old western movie. He stood there defiantly in support of his inaction this morning, making some desperate argument about why it is he wasn’t out of bed and ready to go. He stood there insanely ranting, thin arms spread wide, arguing about whether he did or did not wake in time to leave by 7:15.

As this was unfolding the wife was processing the entire scene in her head.

This kid was wasting precious teeth brushing time. In her infinite mom wisdom she decides the boy shall stay home. The punishment stood and she left him, in his sleep clothes, red eyed and cranky.

When she returned she checked in on him and found him playing video games. Like any kid home from school (as punishment?) would be doing. I didn’t have the time to argue as I slipped a cardigan over my shoulders and grabbed my bag for work.

A few hours into my work day I receive a Skype from the wife, not abnormal as we communicate periodically like this during my work day. This time it wasn’t about after work plans or when we were scheduled to take the car in for an oil change. No. This time it read like this:

[11:42:14 AM] Wife: Your son is up here looking for borax and glue
[11:58:44 AM] Me: uhhh, no?
[11:58:48 AM] Me: for why?
[12:00:01 PM] Wife: Making messes. Aka slime.
[12:00:14 PM] Me: No.
[12:00:29 PM] Me: Welcome to parenting boys 101
[12:00:35 PM] Wife: He was about to get into the Tide. I said no.
[12:01:09 PM] Me: this is the shit I need to blog about
[12:01:24 PM] Wife: Ha.
[12:02:02 PM] Wife: Yeah. I told him we aren’t making messes today.

I am 99% sure I am going to go home this evening to find no detergent for my laundry this weekend, a slime coating on my kitchen table, an empty potato chip bag and some soda cans mixed in with a beer bottle or few, and my kid still sitting in the same wrinkled shorts playing video games.

The truth is I really don’t think I want it any other way. Except maybe if they didn’t use all the Tide for slime and maybe tossed the dirty socks into the washing matching instead of kicking them under the couch. That would be good.

That seems like the perfect equivalent to untying the distressed damsel from the train tracks …

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These people are my heart. They make me laugh, make me cry. Mostly though they make me shrug my shoulders and smile.

 

 

 

Giving thanks. Just a little late.

myidioticbliss1 Comment

Thanksgiving has come and gone and thankfully so have those ridiculous social media posts being thankful for this and that each day.

I am not saying we shouldn’t be gracious and share the wonderful things in our life.
Don’t get me wrong.
I just don’t think I’m buying into how sincere all this is if you must be prompted to express it.

Yes, you love your kids and your momma and your dog and your sweetheart and pumpkin pie and your favorite sports team. I do too.

Well … most of those things anyway.

I might be sarcastically moving along in life but I do take time to genuinely appreciate and thank those who make it just a little more awesome to be alive everyday.

For the sake of laughable tradition I will throw it out there for you. The top 5 list of things I am grateful for this year (and all year).

1. A roof over my head.
It’s no mansion in a gated community but I have a warm comfortable place to plant my pajama clothed ass on a couch every weekend. It might be dusty and cluttered but it’s mine.

2. A great job.
Seriously, I pay for my own house and have weekends to sit around in my pj’s. I’m grateful. It also affords me the luxury of browsing for my next Groupon.
It’s a good job but it isn’t like being a CEO at Apple. I’m not Bill Gates and my neighborhood watch list doesn’t include Oprah. I’m doing alright just the same.

3. Smart kids.
They do really, really dumb stuff on occasion but I am not raising idiots here. Not a single kid got pregnant, dropped out of school, got arrested, or ran away. I consider this a fair amount of luck and decent parenting. Whatever the percent of luck – I am thankful to not be a young grandma. 

4. An amazing spouse.
This is a tricky one. Not to say I’m not thankful for the perfect life partner but I am more thankful she came around at just the time she did. It took me a long time to grow up and mature and know myself well enough to know what I need in life. I made bad decisions and learned from past mistakes. I broke hearts and had my heart broken,  more times than I’ll admit.
I’m most grateful she isn’t one of those learning experiences for the history books. I’m also grateful she’s only going to wear those fuzzy Batman Pajamas for the duration of the winter season. They look ridiculous. Sorry, babe.

5. People who read my blog.
I know what you are thinking cause I’m thinking it too. I’m geeking out here. How could I be so lame?
People who want to read what I have written are right up there with stretchy waist pants.
I heart each and every person who likes, comments or emails me about my blogs as much as I love getting away with leggings on a work day. This fashion trend needs to hang on till I’m retired. 

I’m sincerely thankful each and every day for the time to write, the things to write about, and the sarcasm and wit to make you all want to continue reading.

In the spirit of things please feel free to leave a comment about what you are most thankful for. 

In a world full of strangers

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Everything you have read from me has been hilarious.

Fine, it was at least funny in parts.

I try to be light hearted as much as possible. No matter what. Anything to make the next day better. Sarcasm helps.

Some days though … there is no strength left for better.

Some days it just feels like I’m dragging around a body. Just posing my limbs throughout the day like a stylish department store clothing display. Moving my mouth to form words in such a way that to call it interacting with society would be a generous stretch.

I’m in autopilot and I’m surrounded by strangers. Overwhelmed, emotionally exhausted, dramatically desperate.

I left the doctor today with strange news. There is a major malfunction in my body but it is fixable. Correctable once the source of the problem has been diagnosed. Probably. Hopefully.

Great news, right? No.

I like to be in control. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. I am great at being in control. I mean it’s not like I land airplanes for a living but I direct and reflect trouble like a boss.

Except now. Right now I am all alone. I am broken. I don’t want to share the pits of my despair with anyone in particular. I don’t want to pour my story onto a white page to be discovered by strangers.

Actually. Yes. Yes, I do. I want to share my story. It’s not always witty and entertaining. Sometimes it’s sad and raw and real.

The entirety of the situation is rather embarrassing really.

That makes me sad.
Or mad.
Not gangster style mad though … more like blogger mad. Instead of roughing up the rivals I will take to my blog and punch the keys with intent. That’s right, the sound of my typing can probably be heard from outside the house.
I’m an angry typer.

It’s been a tough couple weeks. I have not blogged purposely because I didn’t want to share sad. Sad isn’t witty or funny or entertaining. It’s just … sad.

Not very long ago I watched my children walk with contained excitement onto an airplane destined for the other side of the country. To be delivered to the other half of their parental unit. They couldn’t wait to find their seats and I panicked when I lost sight down the airplane corridor.

I cried on the way home.
I lost control.

I will miss them. They are gone for a few more weeks. If they need me I won’t be there. I don’t know what to do with that. How do parents do this? Why is this a thing?

Yes, they are safe.
Yes, they are healthy and happy and having a blast.
Yes, I’m still crying.
So what.

Also entirely out of my control?

My marriage. My beautiful, amazing, brag worthy and public love letter inspiring union.
What could be so bad about that? My fairy tale is made of regular everyday normal people, that’s what. People who sometimes reach a crossroads. I have no control over the depths of my love and just the same seemingly no control over the limits of human patience. My carriage may have turned into a pumpkin. No fairy godmother, just humble pie. Good thing I still believe in happy endings.

Sometimes you just want to go where nobody knows your name. Where you are surrounded by strangers. Where you only need to be in control of you.

I need to be reminded that the world still turns, the sun still rises and the moon will still beckon to the lost souls. Even if I get lost in the crowd. Even if I get lost and have to relinquish my control.

Sometimes I just need to be in a world full of strangers.
with my humble pie.
a glass of wine would be great too.

Why amusement parks are family glue

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I took a long weekend from work so we could escape to our favorite amusement park for a few days. Little did I know that it would be more than roller coasters and a few trips down some water slides.

This was a big weekend. The weekend. The one before the kids catch a plane destined for a location across the country to spend summer with their father. It had to be right. It had to be awesome. Alright, it had to be awesome to the kids.

And it was.

It was more than awesome. It was family bonding and moments that can not be taken back.

Alright so in true fashion here’s what happened the last couple days …
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Friday morning we scrambled to gather our backpacks and overnight necessity stuffs. Just a couple backpacks for the park and water park and a hotel bag each. We left at the crack of dawn. Alright maybe it just felt like it, with my love rushing me to get out of the bed. It’s easy for her, she just showers and miraculously is put together. I on the other hand need a team of experts and a barista to get me to look alive.

I gathered my things quickly and waved goodbye to the dogs. I explained that everyone was waiting for me in the car but the dog sitter would be by later. I gave them each the “don’t eat the sitter, just burglary suspects” look and hoped they understood. I think the little one winked. I’m not sure why but it seemed like a good sign.

Our drive was easy, our passes from last year had indeed been renewed and scored us free parking. We even found a spot right near the entrance of the park. I love when that happens. Even getting the kids past security was a breeze. So far so good.

The first day we split our little family into pairs and the bravest amoung us went to ride the brand new giga-coaster. I won’t lie, it was intimidating and I wasn’t sad to be taking on smaller rides with the scaredy cat child.
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After a few thrilling and a couple little less than thrilling rides we made our way to the water park and took a leisurely stroll ran like newly released zoo rhinos to the wave pool.
I don’t think I have ever seen more excited faces.

It’s not as if I have never taken my kids to this amusement park.
I have.

This time was the first with our little family as it is now. The first time ever for teams of 2 and a family of 4.
My love and I were called out equally, to watch new dive moves and to ride water rides with my offspring.

It made my mommy heart swell with such pride.

The kids announced that they were having such a great day, a perfect day. I danced a happy dance in my head.
I mean it.
I broke it down like nobody’s business.

I was ecstatic that my kids were having such fun. That our little family unit, on this little family outing, was so sucessful.

There wasn’t a fight, there was no whining, no complaining no sarcasm. Okay, there was sarcasm.
Lot’s of sarcasm. It was epic.

On day 2 I didn’t want to get up. Suprise, surprise. So I was rushed. Hair in a messy bun and everything from the hotel room thrown quickly into our bags.
Again, everyone was waiting in the car for me.

We got to the park at the same time but didn’t get as great a parking spot. It still wasn’t terrible and we were grateful to not have to walk from the next town to the park entrance.

Like the day before, we split in pairs so that the adventurers could use their season passes for early ride privileges on the new coaster. The more level headed child and I went straight to the water park so that we could get in and get our favorite location claimed before the masses came.
We were met at the gates with a very colorful family. The mom may or may not have been a star on that show “Here comes Honey Boo Boo” I’m not totally sure but there were some clear similarities to the mother. They seemed polite but eager and we waited in the #1 and #2 spots at the gate. I was worried I might have to kick a leg and trip a reality TV star but they headed a different direction once inside the gate.
Lucky break.

I secured our prime location, some drinks and snacks and we were soon joined by the adventurer crew. I listened intently to tales of the feeling “the free fall” and “almost coming off the tracks.” Whatever that means.

It didn’t take long before the sun beating down and the intense crowd began to take their toll. My sweet, happy family started to get cranky, sunburned and begin to turn on each other. It was time to ride some more coasters and consider the drive home.

We left the water park and began to notice the sky was becoming dark. Ominously black.
Then it started to rain. I began to second guess trying to ride any more rides as we took shelter in a vine tunnel. with about 50 other people.
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We waited out the storm and then ventured out, damp but our spirits were unbroken. We found a cute diner and the kids ran off together to ride a neighboring coaster.

Finally, a moment alone.
It was short lived but long enough to chat and we collectively decided to head home after the kids exited the last ride.

It was not our first trip, with,the 4 of us, but it was so much more meaningful than any other.
There was bonding.
I don’t just mean the sticky dried coke on the souvenirs cups kind of bonded. I mean actual love and good energy and laughter.

I didn’t just get a killer tan, I got family time. I don’t know which I’m more excited about. In fairness red heads don’t tan like this.

The thing is amusement parks really aren’t just coasters and crowds. It’s a chance to bond, reconnect, and fall in love. I am pretty enamoured with my crew right now … and my tan.

Please pass the tissues. I’m sick.

myidioticbliss1 Comment

I am by no means a wimp when it comes to being sick. You don’t birth all your babies each 2 years apart, survive 2 divorces, go to college as an adult and work to paying your own way in life just to curl up and surrender to a little cold. You just don’t.

Allergies though, that’s a way different story. I’m waving the white flag. Okay. Maybe It’s a Kleenex. Still, I surrender.

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It’s a fairly new phenomenon for me personally. I have stood guard every year since my baby boy suffered throughout his first season. I did my very best to be sure he was medicated and comfortable. I visited many a pediatric specialist and sat holding him for countless breathing treatments. He is a healthy happy 10 year old now with just the common seasonal and pet allergies. He doesn’t seem to be allergic to everything anymore.

The problem is that suddenly I am. Me. The momma of steel has been brought down by tiny particles unseen but powerful enough to make me crumple like straw paper in the McDonald’s drive-thru.

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I mean sure I remember once my parental units bought weird cheap laundry soap and I got a little itchy when I was just a kid. Never a runny nose or rash or infection related to allergens again. I was a normal kid, no signs or symptoms that later in life I may need to live in an adult sized bubble.

It was all rainbows and lollipops until I moved down here. I was healthy and for the most part mucus free.
This place though, it’s different. This is the land of trees and mountians and killer pollen levels. Every year for the past 4 or 5 I have had a steady worsening of my symptoms. It doesn’t take much; cat fur, trees, flowers, soap, dog dander, lotions, stupidity, dust, air and on occasion my wife. Every freaking thing I come into contact with causes some form of irritation.

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I am miserable all year round at random times, indoors and out and I have to hunt for the culprit. It’s like a “Where’s Waldo” for the new thing I have to disinfect, avoid or give up. I am sick and I’m tired of searching for what the problem is. There could at least be a warning beep when I come near a contaminant. I don’t think that’s asking too much.

So here I am, half a days work done and a days worth of Sudafed pumping in my blood stream. I am hot and cold, my throat hurts and my joints ache. I have sinus pressure so bad I am almost positive my worst fear will come true and my head really will explode. I am tired but I can’t sleep. I am hungry but I can’t swallow. No, it’s not some weird disease. It’s allergies.

Tree pollen. Dog dander on my pillow. Cat hair on the sofa. Old lady perfume in the drug store check-out line. That stupid fake tree in the corner of the office. I might be ok with just one but spring and fall both throw me a toxic combo hit straight to the face. I can’t avoid it and I can’t go on like this. I’ve got to outsmart my poor genetics terrible descision making.

The next time I spend an evening soaking in an outdoor hot tub maybe I will take an antihistamine before we go … and maybe I can give up that 2nd glass of wine while I’m medicated. Maybe I will deep clean the house more often to keep pollen and pet dander at bay. Maybe I will ask the dog to get off my pillows and sleep in her dog bed.

That’s a lot of maybe and not a lot of likely. 52c08c26fbbb2d6b1bc3ad7d571b16ad

In the meantime if someone could please hand me a tissue I would really appreciate it.

Spring cleaning the closets

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It’s that time of year again. We dig out the prior seasons clothing, sort totes to see what still fits and what’s still fashionable.

Unimagetil about 2 1/2 years ago I did this task twice a year all by myself. I would go from bedroom to bedroom and organize with carefully color coded totes. It took me about a day and that includes the inevitable laundry. That was when I had time for simple pleasures, like bubble baths and pedicures. Times have changed.

Life circumstances the last 2 years or so what they were, the kids would sort of help the last few change outs. This was done with minimal supervision and it seemed like they had a good handle on keeping organized and tidy. I didn’t check on them. It was after all probably fine.

This year I decided they could do it themselves entirely. A preteen boy and a young teen girl, I could trust them with this responsibility. cause I’m tired. and lazy.

Still.
The kids are surely old enough to do this all by themselves, right? Wrong. So wrong.

I came home to begin my weekend on the couch; I was going to watch a movie or a Netflix marathon or something on the DVR. Or maybe all that. I’ve had a long week and I earned this weekend. I had all night free and popcorn ready for poppin.

Then it started.

The endless arm loads of clothing being dumped around me. Then they started with the questions …

Daughter: “What about clothes I don’t want?”
Me: grumbling, pausing the TV but not making eye contact … “Just sort them and I’ll figure it out.”

Son: “What about this?” holding a shirt some random kid probably left here months ago.
Me: “Really? Put it in the pile. I’ll sort it out.”

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I’m gonna take my chances anyway.

This went on for what seemed like forever. Then they disappeared leaving me with more clothes than a Goodwill grand opening.

Then I noticed the smell. Not the buttery goodness of a fresh Orville Redenbacher. No. More like one of the dogs passed gas while barfing up a dead thing they unburied and then ate. Not that my dogs would do such things. Hopefully.
I don’t know where the stench was coming from but it was gross.

I sighed heavily without breathing in too much of the toxic air and set to sorting. No way could I continue ignoring the mess. I carefully inspected the clothing and made my selections. One pile for eBay, one for donating and one for the trash.

I found one of my cardigans, a single shoe, a dried up leaf and 2 mini bounce balls. I also found some tiny sizes they clearly missed in the prior seasons closet clean outs. I don’t care how good of a job they claim they did, I know nobody in this house has worn Iron Man under-roos since kindergarten. Lucky for me one pair of jeans had 42 cents in the pocket. Even luckier? Nothing dead.

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I think maybe I will go back to cleaning their closets myself. Even if it means I never, ever get time to just watch TV without multi-tasking again.

This should answer your questions …

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$RSU5L81

My stats because everyone seems to to want to know:

Age: Old enough to know better.

  • 30 something

Marital Status: Married.

  • Happily

Sex: Yes please.

  • Female

Sexual Orientation: None of your business!

  • Lesbian

Kids: Yes. Yes, from my womb.

  • a girl and a boy who live at home and eat all my food

Pets: Yes.

  • Dogs. 2 pits, 1 precious mini dachshund  and 1 asshole poodle schnauzer mix
  • Cats. 2 or 3 or 7 I don’t know anymore. We live in the woods and they just show up for kitty kibble.
  • Fish. Indoor and out. Plus a desk fish – because every office needs one.

Diet: Sometimes.

  • Rich in carbohydrates, beer and sugar

Location: Mountains.

  • Western North Carolina for work, Eastern NC, SC, FL for play. Unless you have a beach house elsewhere then we should be friends. I need more friends with beach houses. Or a friend with a beach house. Whatever.

Occupation: Management level calmer downer and advocate of your e-commerce experience at large

  • I don’t know what that means either. No day is ever the same.
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Naturally.

Why spring break without my kids is going to be epic.

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I realize I sound like a terrible mom. Sometimes I probably am. This time though I’m somewhat sure I’m doing this parenting thing right.10256864_871126482901441_2423989799738735330_n

My lucky little brats are going on a (probably) once in a lifetime trip with their dad and his family over the upcoming spring break. To freaking Disneyland. Best news of all? I’m not invited.

It’s not that I don’t like traveling by car with kids to packed places with even more kids. I actually am ok with that part. It’s the ex and accompanying in laws thing that would make me run screaming for the hills of Magic Mountain never to be seen again. Funny mouse ear hats, long lines for rides, costumed freaks everywhere, slightly sunburned faces and blistered feet. Plus pictures to capture it all. Sounds fabulous. For anyone but me maybe.

Yet still I’m a little bummed this epic adventure is sans the baby momma. I know time is limited and valuable. My kids don’t get rain checks, or parent time exchanges. When an opportunity comes along for family memory making it’s a big deal. No selfish parenting allowed, no blame game, no hassle.

My kids are going to love this opportunity, even if I’m not there too. They will be spoiled and loved on every second of the trip.  When they get back I will listen to their stories and I will try not to be jealous. I will be equally happy for their epic spring break and for mine.

Until then though I’m going to have to sit in long hot baths, take naps, eat junk food for dinner and try enjoy the silence. I’ll try to do my best.