Ten years ago earlier this month, Hubby and I said our big I Dos. We got married on September 8th and jetted off for two fun-filled and relaxing weeks in Hawaii for our honeymoon. While there, we swore we’d take a huge trip back for our 10 year anniversary in September of 2011.
“We’ll come for a month!”
“We’ll bring our kids to enjoy the island. And our parents too so they can watch the kids when we go out!”
We had all sorts of grandoise plans for what our ten year anniversary would be like as only two young married people without children or any sense of reality of life with kids can do.
Fast forward to this past spring.
Hubby: “You know, our ten year anniversary is coming up this fall.”
Hubby: ”We’re going somewhere… right? Without the kids… ?”
See, both of us travel a ton. Hubby more than me but we both have left the kids on numerous occasions for business trips. But the point is – rarely have we gone together. Oh we’ve had the odd weekend here and there away for a wedding but it’s never been far and never more than two nights away. (And only once was it a flight and that was only up to Boston.)
But here I am, on the eve of leaving my children for 4 nights – as I fly to Puerto Rico. I’m nervous. I wish I could say I’m over the moon excited. Don’t get me wrong, I am excited to hang on the beach with hubby, a book and a drink but my stress level’s definitely overshadowing my excitement for rest & relaxation.
While this trip meets all of my requirements (Must be a direct flight from Philly and be tropical), it’s still FAR AWAY and my kids will have BOTH of their parents gone.
My parents are here. They are the next best thing and my kids love them. But both kids have lamented that they don’t want us to go – only serving to pull at my heart strings even more.
What if Cole falls and skins his knee and cries that he wants me? What about in the middle of the night when he comes into our bed looking to cuddle with me (which he does most nights) and I’m not there? What if Nate does something great at school and he’s proud and wants to share it with me, I’m not here and he’s sad?
I know my kids will survive. I know they will be fine. *I* will be fine once I get on the plane tomorrow morning and have a big fat Mimosa. But it doesn’t help that I’m a total nutjob and have a pit in my stomach about leaving them.
Sometimes I think I’m the only one because everyone I asks rolls their eyes at me and teases me that they can’t wait to get the heck out of dodge and be kid-free. Someone out there tell me I’m not the only one. Puleeze.