Four days in San Francisco with my husband.
A nice hotel–with a king size bed.
A trip down memory lane (we used to live in Noe Valley).
Drinks at Specs in North Beach; dinner at our old haunt.
A day with my best friend.
Vintage clothes shopping on Haight Ashbury.
Reading a book front to back on the plane.
Sound good? Well, that’s what I was GOING TO BE DOING this week. That is, until the kids got sick. My kids are older, so we’re over the constant ear infections, endless strep and mysterious “aches” that require nursing. They usually power through being sick and get better pretty fast.
Not this time, oh no. Peter was out 4 days last week, and until the last minute I held out hope he would improve enough that I could feel okay about leaving. I mean, I had already put in about a week’s worth of work setting up carpools and overnights, food, homework, thank you’s and I O U’s etc… I’d laid all the groundwork…
When he woke up with a fever on Saturday and I realized my long-awaited trip was kaput, I felt like an eight year old throwing a tantrum, except that my tantrum involved going very, very quiet and drinking too much vodka.
For a day I wallowed in my own misery. What made me feel even worse was knowing I was being a drama queen, and that there are plenty of moms out there who are REALLY struggling, and not throwing hissy fits because they can’t get their own way.
Still mad as hell, I nonetheless plowed through it and made protein shakes, dispensed medicine, gave advice about cracking lips and bleeding noses (bad bad bad head cold), helped with missed homework and called the doctor to make sure I was doing everything I should be doing. Oh and I canceled all those carpool and overnights and favors.
I looked at our book, Mothers Need Time-Outs, Too and thought, Christ, if there’s ever a time I need to take my own medicine!
So I took out my trusted little notebook and listed all the good things I’d do for myself while Kevin was in San Francisco on his own, and I was here holding up the fort. I was going to: work out vigorously every day, watch the Academy Awards with friends, watch a movie of MY CHOICE each night in bed, work doubly hard on my writing projects and eat well. No vodka. No self pity.
And presto, I felt better already!