This weekend John is going camping with his friends. It’s a little mancation, something the guys have been doing for years. And while I would never begrudge him his time away ( I like time to myself and I love getting away) I was a bit anxious about solo-parenting for the weekend.
I know it seems strange that I would be anxious about going it on my own, especially since I do it most days of the week. But there is something about the anticipation of John coming home from work, knowing that someone is going to help me through the dreaded dinner, bath and bed routine. Knowing that when 5:00 rolls around and my patience has worn thin that someone will be there.
And I was feeling a little sad and maybe a little jealous and a bit lonely. For the nights will be quiet after Jack is in bed. And there will be a definite lack in adult conversation. And what I wouldn’t give to get away for the weekend on my own.
And then it occurred to me, I get to be the fun one this weekend. For once I get to be the one who says yes all the time, the one who pushes back bedtime, the one that goes for donuts in the morning. I get to be the one who lets the rules slide, rather than the one constantly enforcing them. This was my chance to be the fun one.
So I’m thinking we will be building forts and going to play dates. We will be eating lunch out and maybe dinner too. We are definitely hitting up the bakery. We will pull out toys that have been banished to the basement because they are too messy. We will watch a movie and stay up late (like 8:00 late, Mom still needs some time to herself). We will make popcorn and messes and enjoy this time off from Daddy.
I will do these things knowing that these days are fleeting. That Jack is already starting to ask when he can go camping with Daddy, that soon the two of them will head off together for a father-son weekend. Soon it will be just me at home while they are off on an adventure.
This weekend I’m doing my best to be the fun one, even if it doesn’t come naturally to me.