Surviving motherhood one caffeinated beverage at a time.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
I promise to never leave my kids again, unless someone asks me to go somewhere for a week and it requires me to travel alone in sweet silence, in which case I’ll say yes immediately.
I left my kids (oh ya, and my husband! – that exclamation point was a Freudian slip) this week to help my friend Darci. She’s only staying in a city she doesn’t live in with two children ages two and 4 months and receiving treatments for cancer. So basically, she’s on vacation.
I tell ya, when I got to Nashville and realized what all this girl is doing without so much as a Xanax, I was shocked, and then right after that I was totally humbled, and then right after that I called my doctor and asked if she would call me in a couple of Xanax.
She wouldn’t. I digress….
This little jaunt to the south resulted in my husband taking over all parenting duties for a week. It just so happened to be tech week for the musical Mia is currently cast in. Tech week is basically the week parents vow to never allow their child to audition for another show again. On normal rehearsal nights the little kids get to leave at ten – which is still insanely late for a mom who likes to be in bed by 9 PM sharp. But during tech week everyone stays until the director starts bawling or you see sunlight.
It’s fun times, I tell ya, fun times!
While Andy was dying a slow death in the lobby of the theater I was having me a grand old time exploring the south. It’s weird that every time I go anywhere I wonder why in heaven’s name I live in Oklahoma.
Nashville is awesome for lots of reasons but the main one is that across the street from every lunch hotspot is an adorable little dessert shop that smells like straight butter. I made a point to visit every single one of them.
Additionally, the south is full of children’s boutiques with little boys clothing that looks like something John-John Kennedy would have worn. It took all my strength to not buy Bode a sailor suit. You’re welcome, Andy.
Currently, I’m on a plane flying home. The pilot just came over the loud-speaker and asked if there was a doctor on board. As luck would have it, there is no doctor, nurse, or Xanax sales representative. I thought about telling the flight attendant that I took infant CPR nine-years ago but, honestly, it was during my post-partum stupor and I don’t think I actually passed the class.
In 2 hours I will see my kids and vow to never go anywhere without them again. In four hours I will secretly take back that promise, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.