Our family is about to go away for a 3 week vacation in Maine. I'm filled with about equal parts longing and dread. Three weeks, just us (mostly, there are Grandparents and cousins involved too.) No camp. No daycare. No babysitters.
I'm looking forward to it, no really I am. It will be good for us to spend lots of time together as a family. It's just. Well, parenting is tough and the days are long. And we've decided, again, to have a "No TV in Maine" rule (and no ipads and iphones and other devices my kids love). Which means no electronic babysitters either. (This post brought to you by the TV the kids are happily watching quietly while I write.)
Sigh. I hope I'm not alone in this. (I'm pretty sure that my own parents popped some Champagne every time we went off to sleep away camp.) I'm looking forward to spending days on the water, evenings on the porch, having lots of grass to play on and homemade ice cream to feast on. But, but. I've gotten used to having alone time too. And alone time does not exist with young children. Especially ones with sleep issues who will not go to bed in a strange house alone.
"Lily, I'm just going to the bathroom."
"Okay mommy, I come with you."
Two years ago, Andrew and I arrived in Addis Ababa to be united with our children. We'd been waiting and praying for that day for 2 (no, 4) years. The intensity of that day and that days that followed has stayed with me. I remember in my bones how difficult it was to be separated from them in the beginning. How I would ache and worry most of the time I was away from my children. Now I'm worrying about how I will stand 3 weeks of togetherness.
How things have changed. How I have changed... for the better? Hmmm....
Let's see how the next 3 weeks go...