This past weekend marked a turning point for Ravi and I. We left Elanor with his parents and went away for a weekend by ourselves for the first time.
I have not been unencumbered by a baby in over a year (or longer, if you count pregnancy…and considering my near constant worship at the porcelain altar and the diabetes…I do). Going through airport security without bottles of breastmilk or formula, without taking the baby out of the stroller, folding up the stroller, explaining the stroller travel bag (thank you Bugaboo for making a stroller travel bag look like a huge suitcase and creating problems for me at airports on two continents), carrying the baby through the metal detector, reassembling all the crap on the other side (laptop bag, meds, shoes, coats, reopening the stroller blah blah blah) was heaven. We didn’t even have checked luggage! So it was just take off the shoes, put the laptop in a container and the carryon…and whoosh straight through.
When I saw a family with a small crying child on our plane I felt a mixture of compassion (because BOY have I been there) and relief that it wasn’t me.
It was delightful to spend a six hour flight reading and watching my iPod and not trying to keep a one year old in one place and happy, or having her dead weight on my shoulder.
When the plane landed, we just took our carryon bags and left the airport. We got into a rental car without having to argue over which car seat is appropriate for our child and the hassle of installing it.
We got to our hotel and were able to nap without setting up a pack n play or worrying if it was Elanor’s nap time.
We went out for dinner and a concert without worrying about a babysitter who we’ve never met.
We came back after the concert, but could have stayed out as long as we wanted (the truth being as parents we just don’t have the stamina to stay out late).
I slept for 11 hours straight. Well, I woke up to pee, but really…11 hours straight.
We lazed around the hotel room. I got to use the ensuite jacuzzi tub for as long as I wanted.
We left for dinner, souvenier shopping and dashed through the airport to arrive at the gate just as they were boarding.
And once we arrived home….I couldn’t wait to see my little girl.
Don’t get me wrong…I called. I texted. We made sure to call around bedtime so we could recite Elanor the “Going to Bed Book” by Sandra Boynton. We almost missed our flight back home in our quest for the perfect souvenir to assuage our guilt.
I wouldn’t want to do it often, but maybe once a year? This baby free weekend thing? Rocks.