alone alone alone

While my husband was at home dealing with bodily fluids of all kinds, I was in my hometown, staying in my childhood home. I had no responsibilities and no obligations other than my sister's wedding on Friday, which, because they just went to the courthouse, was not really any big deal. I mean, momentous for her, of course, but from my end, no big thing. I stayed in my jammies til noon that day, drank coffee with my grandparents, watched a movie with my mom and, while Mom fixed me a BLT for lunch, picked Lexi a bouquet from the flower beds. (I will always be a pushy older sister.) There were no butts to wipe and no fights to referee, no plates to fix and no bedtime stories to be told. There was nothing to clean and no errands to be run.

I missed my family. The first night, I just stood in the kitchen while my sister fixed her boys' supper plates.

"You don't know what to do with yourself, do you?" she said.

I didn't.

The trip was lovely, despite gloomy weather. My sister is so obviously in love with her new husband, their happiness is infectious. And visiting with my parents, grandparents and other family without having to worry about rushing off to see in-laws or making my children behave was relaxing. I read a couple books and ate all the foods I can't get outside my hometown and generally was a bum. But I missed my boys, all of them.

The feeling was mutual. On Sunday afternoon, while I was en route back home, the husband asked the boys -- both feeling better and coming home from a baseball game -- who had missed Momma. "MEEEEEEEEEEEE!" they yelled. The Beastie spent most of his waking hours for the next day on my lap and was angry Monday when he heard me shutting the dryer door, thinking I was getting in the car to leave again. The Boy showed his feelings in a slightly different way: He spent 36 hours being a cranky-pants, finally admitting Monday to being angry that I had left. Being so missed made me all warm and fuzzy, despite the sassiness.

I haven't taken a trip by myself since The Boy was eight months old. Getting away, allowing myself to miss my family, made me appreciate them more. It made me even more glad -- and erased any lingering guilt I had -- about booking a trip to The Blathering.

When was the last time you got out of town alone?