If You Decide Not to Come Home Just Mail My Present

It was the afternoon before I was to leave for my Fall Girls Trip; a beach vacation. My two boys were all but torching the house. I was locked in a room somewhere banging my head on a wall doing my final countdown to the next morning. My girlfriend called at 5 p.m. to compare packing notes.  I said I was packed and ready.

A light bulb went off.

The conversation quickly went from what time do I pick you up in the morning to when is the soonest I can come pick you up tonight. The scramble began.

The boys were a hot, filthy mess. If I had two clean and fed angels greeting daddy at the door it would help breaking the news to him that I was leaving that night.

As a time saver, I decided to shower with my youngest, Quinn. I asked once, twice and then started barking about 20 more times for him to get undressed and go to the bathroom while I threw last minute things in my suitcase.

I glanced over and, sure enough, he was undressed, and he had gone to the bathroom on the floor. Fantastic! I got to clean a pee puddle in my mad rush to get out of the house.

We showered. Quinn screamed, and screamed, and screamed, like I was bathing him in battery acid for 10 minutes. Before we were rinsed, I called my oldest, Ethan, to hop in the shower as we hop out.

The shower, for me, was pointless. I was sweating like a beast from being the perfect wife and mother; scrambling to leave my husband a clean house, clean children, not a single dirty article of clothing and notes galore so he doesn't have to think about what to pack in the kids lunch or do for their homework.

Finally, the boys and I make it downstairs with my luggage. The kids are clean and dressed. My friend calls to ask if I'm ready. "The hubs pulling in now. I still need to tell him we are leaving. Come on over," I said.

I was panting with excitement because I was minutes from leaving. My husband walked in, saw my bags, and asked if we were leaving tonight. I said, sweetly, "If you don't mind."

I did a Vanna White arm sweep to display our clean, sweet children.

I saw that Quinn had taken a green marker to himself. My husband must have seen my head begin to explode because he carried my bags to the car in 90 seconds, told me to have a good time and not to worry about the boys.

The only request was from Ethan-that I bring home a present and that if I decide not to come back to please mail the present. Lovely!

The next five days were pure bliss. I showered alone, in silence, for as long as I wanted. There was no one yelling at the door, no one screaming from the toilet, and no one playing chase through the bathroom. I didn't once have to run out of the shower dripping wet with shampoo in my hair to break up a fight. I got to actually use the bathroom in private without being bombarded by questions about whether or not I'm pooping. I got to wake up peacefully, at my own slow pace, and be greeted with already brewed coffee and someone saying in a quiet, happy voice, "Good morning, how did you sleep?"

Instead of diapers, used Kleenex, melted fruit snacks and Hot Wheels cars in my purse there was sand, sea shells, gleaming shot glasses and lipstick. For five days I didn't have to change a diaper, clean a pee puddle, fix a meal that wouldn't get eaten, vacuum cracker crumbs, wipe a snotty nose or a dirty face, tie shoes, break up fights, wake up to screaming, or go to bed screaming.

I spent days with six women that could do all of the above for themselves and appreciate not having to do it for someone else as much as I did.

But, for five days I didn't get to hear things like, "I wuv you mommy," or "You are the best mommy ever," or the sweet sound of my boys snoring. I didn't get to see Quinn’s chipped tooth or play with his blonde curls, rub on Ethan's velvety buzz cut or see his toothless smile. That is why I spent three hours going to every cheesy beach store looking for the perfect gifts to take home to my boys.

The message: take a break from your kids, your spouse, carpool lines, play dates, schedules and the lack of downtime. You will appreciate it. So will they. Your friends are waiting. Call them and go play!