Well here we are already in April --- I have both been looking forward to and dreading this month. Mike and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary last month (in one of our favorite places on earth -- Austria, with the kids and dear friends.) But our real anniversary celebration will take place this month when we head back to Boston, scene of our chaotic honeymoon. We thought we'd go back and do things right -- lots of rest and relaxation. I love Boston and I'm excited to be going. I'm looking forward to traipsing along the Paul Revere trail, spending time with friends and eating ridiculous amounts of seafood.
Why go in April? Because we own a timeshare. For those that don't own a timeshare -- let me explain...sometimes you just get what you get. Well, then OF COURSE, it just happened to line up with our annual pilgrimage to Coachella for the music festival.
So what exactly is bad about this situation? It means leaving my children and home for 10 days. This will be the longest I've ever been away from them all. And while I have a network of supportive and capable people to care for them, let's face it -- we have quite a show going on here at Hunter's Point. I can't help but let my Grandfather's worry gene kick in, and my mother's anxiety gnaw on me a bit. I keep checking an re-checking the list of things everyone will need to know. My old friend, insomnia, has stopped by to visit for a few nights. Even my daily meditation time is plagued by "what have I forgotten's?"
It doesn't help that my very sarcastic son has an ongoing conflict with his grandmother who will be coming to stay during the school week. I can't help but imagine all the mean things that will fly out of his mouth when I'm not around to tell him to "shut it". True, words are his only defense mechanism at this point, but still one does not wish for this type of scenario.
Last time I left the kids for a week, my mom took care of them and gave me daily reports of her exhaustion level. The stress of not being able to control a less than ideal situation culminated with a panic attack on the side of an icy ski slope and ended with me barfing in the toilet at the apres ski bar. What will happen this time? I do not know. And for a control freak like me, that's a problem. I've completely neglected to remember that this is an excellent chance for some much needed bonding with my husband. Not to mention that Coachella represents my annual opportunity to feel completely irresponsible. I will, no doubt, come home feeling cleansed of feeling burdened by parenthood and amp up the delight I feel in spending time with my little bundles of joy.
