What If He Forgets To Pick Up The Children?
Tomorrow morning, I leave for a conference at a ski resort four and a half hours away. I would be lying if I denied that a small part of me is looking forward to three days in a one-bedroom condominium on the ski slopes so, I won’t. In fact, I will readily admit that I am eagerly anticipating the peace and solitude, not to mention having sole possession of the remote control and ordering room service, ah, glorious room service! Fresh coffee delivered to my room each morning! A wine and cheese nightcap, perhaps? Room service, glorious room service; how I covet thee!
But, let’s not get carried away.
The children are almost as excited about my trip as I am. I don’t take it personally. They are merely well aware that their father is, how shall I say…somewhat less strict than I am in regards to certain parenting rules, rules regarding bedtimes, vegetable eating and television viewing, to be specific and they take full advantage of it when I travel for business. This is reason numero uno that I feel no guilt whatsoever in enjoying myself while I am away.
It didn’t always used to be this way; when the children were smaller, the guilt gnawed at me like a bulimic super-model on a fried chicken leg. Not only did I miss them but I worried constantly about whether or not Hugh was feeding them (he was; junk food is still food) and if they were dressed appropriately which was a justifiable fear since my husband engages in an especially haphazard method for determining what constitutes appropriate school attire:
1) Open drawer.
2) Grab first article of clothing that comes into contact with hand.
Thankfully, I can cross this particular fear off the Master List O’ Terror since The Girl is now old enough to dress herself and the Man-Cub can always blame bad outfits on his recently diagnosed color-blindness.
I also worried about Hugh getting them to daycare on time and about him forgetting to remind them to brush their teeth for three days in a row, allowing the evil gingivitis to gain a stronghold on their delicate gum lines.
I guess it’s good that they are growing up; these days, I just worry that they won’t miss me as much as I’ll still miss them.
And, I will miss them.
Not even room service and an uninterrupted episode of Lost can change that.