WHY I WANT ANOTHER BOSTON FOR CHRISTMAS
I look rested here don't I? Also, legit happy. Like I'm freshly dressed and bathed, don't have oatmeal in my hair and not even hungover because I got to sleep in till 9:40 a.m. Yep, 9:40 a.m. I haven't done that since 2011.
Dear Santa, take me back to Boston. No, for real. Like before summer. I don't mean to sound greedy, but this trip saved my heart.
I know it's not possible for everyone to get out of dodge alone, without kids, because you may not have family in town to help. Us either, that's why we paid someone. It ain't cheap. But it's cheaper than therapy. True story. And even if you can get away for one night, one legitimate night where you don't wake up in your own bed, in your own home, do it. And here's why.
You get to fly or drive without anyone screaming in your ear.
You get to hold a coffee while drinking it and actually finish it.
You get to go to the bathroom alone.
You get to only carry your luggage and handbag, and not 3 suitcases, 6 bottles, 4 ziplocs of cheerios, formula, milk, water, grapes cut in halves only to be found 2 weeks later nice and moldy, 2 changes of clothes, child medications, epi pens, diapers and wipes, diaper rash cream, aquaphor, books, crayons, toys of all sorts and brands, ipads, ipad chargers, granola bars, blankets, and loveys.
You get to walk to a taxi and only load yourself and your husband and look out the window at the beautiful architecture and not have to check if you forgot your children.
You get to have sex.
You get to have hotel room sex.
You get to order room service and watch tv alone.
You get to have sex.
You get to drink baileys and coffee at noon because you feel like it.
You get to roam the city, walk into shops by foot and actually try something on.
You get to nap in the middle of the day. For fucking ever.
You get to eat at the best restaurants and find underground smoky weird bars.
You get to stay up late, be college tipsy and eat 3 canolis at 1 am.
You get to put yourself to bed without reading seven books, running downstairs to grab water, say prayers, tuck kids in, take them to pee, tuck them back in, turn on the night light, discuss why the sliding door won't close all the way, read another book, say goodnight, close the door, hear "mommy!", open the door, take them to pee, blow their nose, tuck them in, give more hugs, close the door, hear "mommy!", open the door, hear "what time are you and daddy going to sleep?", close door, turn lights out.
You get to wake up to silence.
You get to appreciate your husband and wife marriage thing. Because you see it clearly in black and white, with no interruptions.
Boston may not be your thing, it might be Cabo, or Seattle, or a hotel room downtown. Whatever, do it. If you can do it, just say yes.
I'm a mother. I'm also a wife. I'm many things. And getting away from mothering in the home is good for realizing you are many things. It reminds you how much you enjoy yourself. And your husband. And how fun it can be to sit in a Irish pub and drink a beer and not have anyone to take care of. But take care of you. Taking care of you is good. It's therapy. It's also a luxury. And I'm grateful we got this opportunity. And I'll be grateful when the opportunity comes back around. Because, I love Boston. I love the husband. And I love life.
But let's not kid ourselves. Truth be known....although it was mind blowing to be completely in the moment, for 48 hours of moments, I was ready to be back with my babies. I missed them terribly. And the next morning when we walked in the twins bedroom and they saw us come to get them, they smiled bigger than ever. And so did she. Right on cue. It was perfect. It was everything. It was our family.
And then the screaming and whining started and the cheerios went flying everywhere and the lunches had to be made and my husband and I looked at each other intensely and then stopped. And suddenly we reveled in the memories of the last 2 days of adult bliss. And we texted. And we giggled. And this is why.
I highly recommend.
Dear Santa. K thanks, bye.
