Adult conversations

  • Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Last week I spent a whole 24 hours in which I only spoke to adults. It was glorious.

Eric had a two-day conference in Charleston to attend and I got to tag along. I asked my parents, as well as my aunt and uncle, to take care of the kids.

Autumn was highly insulted that it took four adults to care for them when it usually only took one. Which, according to my mother, it took four of them because their experience wasn’t as “fresh” as mine.

I began the countdown to complete a perfectly wonderful kid-free adventure.

First, I had to prepare to leave. Since I love to organize and plan that’s just what I did. I created a Spatz kids’ dossier. I resisted the urge to laminate it, it was a struggle, but I managed. It was totally complete with bedtimes, school pick-up times, homework and medical release form. I put the kids’ school clothes in labeled freezer bags, including socks and hair bows for the girls.

Then, I began a mental list of things I would do.

My 24 hours of kid freedom to do list:

Speak to no one under the age of 20.

Avoid as many bathrooms as humanly possible

Eat dessert and not share

Take a nap in the middle of the day, in the middle of the bed.

Drink a cup of coffee without reheating it twice.

Read and remember what I read.

Go to the bathroom alone, without a tiny voice speaking to me through the crack of the door.

Walk at the speed of my choice.

Shop and completely ignore the kid’s section or toy department.

Have a grown-up lunch.

I am proud to say that I did all this and more. Including napping on a hotel couch.

But, when we woke up on Wednesday morning ( I slept late) to discover we may be stuck in Charleston due to the southern ice storm, I may have had a mini panic attack. Thrilled as I was to have a night away from the kids I was not prepared to be trapped away from them. That takes a whole different mind set. I knew we were safe and the kids were safe but we were apart.

When we finally made the choice to drive home, I couldn’t wait to see them. To smooch them and sit on them. I missed them and hated being trapped away from my sweet babies even if I was only “trapped” for about three hours.

And, then we got home. I, smooched them and sat on them and with them. The next morning, however when I had to reheat my coffee three times and have conversations through the crack in the door I remembered why it’s good to get away.


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