Eight Is Enough

Today, the W left a for weeklong sales training "university" for her new job. It's been eight years since she last had this kind of freedom away from me and the kids. Ever since becoming parents, one of us has always been with them—and never away from them for more than a day or two. So for her this is new kind of break: substantial... and overdue.

This time is different for me, too. I'm home... alone. The grandparents have taken the kids for the week so that I don't have to take days off from work. So we're all getting breathers from each other.

I call these breaks "getting your brain back" because that's what it feels like to me during business trips. Knowing the kids are safe and that I do not have to concern myself with any aspect of parenting feels good on the surface—and that's often a pleasure (even a guilty one). I haven't read up what neurobiologists have learned about how your brain physically changes when you become a parent—it seems like it must. And I bet they use the scientific word for "mushy."

I'd also like to know what changes when you have a controlled break. Do the parts associated with worry and doubt go dim? Do the parts associated with peace, quiet, and unrestricted web surfing light up like the streets of Vegas? Science must have the answers...

So what am I doing with my own days of freedom? Well, there's an office to organize for the first time since we moved here two years ago. And there are parts of the yard I still haven't seen completely (it's less than a quarter acre!). So I'll be trying to make some progress—and that's good.

But what's best is pretending it's just me again (even for just a few moments at a time)...

But it sure is quiet here. And I miss her... and them...

She get's back in eight days... and that is enough.

Tweet Wannabes...
We've never hired a babysitter. Meaning, only family members have ever watched the kids. We don't think of ourselves as overprotective, we just have enough risk-aversion (and some laziness) to keep us from hiring somebody... (or we're cheap)

The W's training is in Minnesota and she said, "I want to get some sports jerseys for the boys. What teams are good there?" Me: "Um... well... maybe they'd like kazoos."

It's been so long since I opened the liquor cabinet that it got stuck and I had to pry the damn thing open. Now I've left the bottle of JD sitting on the counter as casually as it might in Michael Anthony's house...