It’s not really a question. I already bought tickets to go to Scotland for a week with the hubs. We will be gone for one week, with no child.
A funny thing happens to me before leaving my kiddo for a whole week at Grandma’s while I go and pretend I don’t have a shit load of responsibility…even before I have left, I feel bad for leaving and I miss my kid immensely. I also start preemptively missing my dog.
I feel guilty for wanting to live a week as if I am not a parent, or a reliable employee, or an adult for that matter. Add to the guilt an extreme sadness at leaving Sofia behind. She suddenly becomes in my mind not a lot of work at all, and all I can think about are her funny and charming qualities and then what a beast I am for counting down the hours until I am drinking mediocre screwdrivers served to me by an angry coach stewardess.
The thought of both my husband and I boarding a plane (aka flying death trap) and leaving my daughter behind just seems downright irresponsible. Especially since we still haven’t had a will drawn up (Real thoughts in my head: “Shit! That has been on our to-do list for three years. Shit! We should have done that before this trip in case we die.”)
So then I finally come around to some semblance of sanity, which involves a lot of self-talk akin to the scene in Feris Bueller’s Day Off where Cameron is in his shitty car arguing to himself the pros and cons of picking up Ferris: “I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go.”
And that’s when the immense tornado of shit to do or else a small kitten will be shot every hour hits. At work, at home, everything becomes urgent and the length of the responsibilities to be fulfilled to set myself up for a week of no responsibility is bigger than JLo’s ass. What is with that? Where do all of these sudden urgent needs come from?
Whatever. T minus 3 days until whiskey tours, accents, and castles and shit. I must go watch Braveheart to prepare…