All. By. Myself.

Notice anything about these pictures?






There are no children in them.

That’s because I went away this weekend. Alone.

That’s right.

All. By. Myself.

I’ve never spent a night away from Ellie. She is nearly two.

I’ve never spent a night away from both kids, ever.

I received an offer I could not refuse (Don Corleone had nothing to do with it, I assure you) and also, it was time.

I left Saturday morning, cruised down the Garden State Parkway and arrived in Cape May, New Jersey around lunchtime. (Sidenote: It felt hard to leave. I kept finding reasons to stall, kept "forgetting" something. It's not that I didn't want to go, I just felt so...strange).

The trip was a stunning blur. From the beginning, when all that had to be done was to throw clothes, a toothbrush and a few books and magazines, to the middle, when the biggest decision to be made was Where to eat dinner? and Should I take the trolley tour of the historical district or the guided tour of the Physick Mansion? To the end, which had me sitting at a bar drinking a beer, eating nachos and wondering just how late I could leave while still avoiding driving in the dark (I’m not a fan).

I spent a good amount of time alone in my twenties. I lived alone for a few years. I spent six weeks touring Europe by myself when I was 25. Since I’ve had kids though, I am very rarely alone. Sure I spend five days a week “kidless” but those days often start before 5 a.m. and begin with the flurry of the morning routine: getting myself and two other people dressed, making breakfasts and lunches, attempting to leave the house in some semblance of order…then I’m commuting, then I’m sitting in an office, then I’m rushing through the streets of Freaking Midtown Manhattan to catch my bus home . Yea, so NOT alone. And what I come home to is two exhausted little people who pack the day’s tumults and frustrations into two and a half frenzied hours. I try to make the best of our time together during the week, but it's not always easy.

This weekend had me thinking about how strange it feels to be alone now, to say nothing of the Responsibilities that have become the blueprint of my life. It is bizarre to wake up when you want to, to have only yourself to get ready. Then there is the luxury of sitting in a restaurant and being able to just eat your meal, with no need for damage control or refereeing or shame about the amount of food matter or cutlery that is plummeting to the floor. There is the wonder of asking the question, What do I want to do today?

I found it remarkably easy to turn off the “Mom” in me this weekend. It is so how I define myself these days, and yet I am so much more than that. The kids have a “hum” to them, they can (obviously) not ever be ignored, even when they are playing (however momentarily) quietly, there is a need for such constant contact that in their presence I find it impossible to Ever. Finish. Anything. A thought. A project. A task. Not complaining, just saying. And also, I know it’s not always going to be this way. Still, it’s beyond refreshing to have the time to finish something, or perhaps more importantly, to do Absolutely Nothing. Which is what I did a lot of this weekend (in addition to taking historical tours, whale watching, light house visiting, window shopping and wine drinking).

I still have interests outside of the kids, yet somehow they seem to swallow up so many of my thoughts, until I am away from them, and it is scary how easily I can forget.

Sunday night I pulled into the driveway and saw Erin standing on the porch, her smiling face waiting for me on the front stoop. And later, after I regaled Erin with tales of surfing dolphins and creepy 111-year-old inns (hint: don’t take a tour of “haunted places” when the hotel you’re staying in looks like something out of The Shining), I checked on each sleeping child. Leo was passed out as he is most nights with his face in a book and snoring loudly, his fleece blanket and Elmo comforter wrapped messily around his body as though he’d had a fight with them. Next door, Ellie sighed quietly in her crib, with Baby jammed between her neck and a chubby pink cheek and Bunny tucked into the crook of her little arm. She stirred a bit as I studied her, so I dashed out of the room, not wanting to take any chances.

Tomorrow it would all start up again. The mad dash, the making of breakfasts and lunches. It was almost as if my time away never happened. But it definitely did.

The weekend was plenty. It felt good to be home.