Party of Two, I Mean Four

We started working on this plan about a month ago: a weekend away from the kids! We had it all set; a reservation in Carlsbad, the go-ahead from Jarv's mom who would feed the kids and throw them in bed every night. And most important, they had entertainment: their two cousins who'd be there to sleep over, go swimming, and play for hours on end.

The cousins haven't exactly been available to play this last week, despite advance reassurances to the contrary. So the reality is that our kids would have been at their grandparents', inside a dark house watching TV about 10 hours a day. They would have been fine, of course. But we just didn't feel right about it. It's hard to really relax if you know your kids are bored out of their minds, zoned out in front of a five-hour Phineaus and Ferb marathon, snacking on endless bags of potato chips, counting the hours until you come back.

We haven't had a weekend away from our kids in about three years -- way, way too long. I think parents should be required to take time away from their kids twice a year. We'd all be so much more patient, relaxed, energized. It should be a federal mandate, even. How about instead of padding AIG bonuses with the federal bailout money, we put some into a beneficial program like that, Mr. Obama?

This is what I had in mind: lazy, listless afternoons spent by the quiet, adult pool, reading books and napping. (And by napping, I don't mean the kind where the clock is ticking and every minute spent asleep is time that I will need to watch the kids later while Jarv has an equal amount of free time for himself.) Late, relaxing dinners at restaurants that don't serve chicken fingers, cheesy noodles and pepperoni pizza. Forty-eight hours of sheer bliss.

It didn't exactly work out that way. Instead, we found ourselves in the very crowded kids pool, taking runs down the water-slides and tossing dive sticks endlessly. We dealt with a bedwetting incident, an excema flare-up, some lost headgear, and the requisite sibling squabbles. Oh, and every restaurant we went to served chicken fingers, cheesy noodles and pepperoni pizza. If one more waitress hands me a kids' coloring sheet and a pack of crayons as we sit down, I'll cry.

To top it all off, we spent today at Legoland. I loathe amusement parks. Standing in line for an hour in the blazing sun to take a one-minute ride in a little boat floating in two feet of water? Not amusing.

Not that I'm complaining. Does this sound like complaining? Hope not. It's still very nice to be here.

But a quiet weekend with my husband would have been oh so nice.

Maybe next year.