Yesterday Jeff and I returned from a long weekend camping trip that was taken without the children. It was romantic, it was indulgent (as much as sitting in the woods for three days can be indulgent), and being without responsibility was almost intoxicating, making us giddy for no reason at all. We ate when we wanted to, took walks when we wanted, I read actual chapters on end with no interruptions and I even took a long fantasized about nap. When I wasn't stuffing my face or absorbed in a book, I stared at the campfire, one of my very favorite things to do in the world. I love to pull up a camp chair and settle down and just stare at the flames and let all thoughts speed out of my head, or maybe swirl around in a nonsensical way that is peaceful and soothing.
We took walks through the woods and along trails, the views where we camped were spectacular. The ground was covered in shades of bronze, gold, and burnt orange with the odd light green mixed in. We crunched through dry areas and I slid through the wet ones, glad that the path was so narrow that Jeff couldn't see my face at my near falls. We briefly entertained the idea of coming back out at night with a flashlight but decided that the chance of running into a spider-snake (the combination of each of our biggest fears) was just too horrifying to bear.
As much as we enjoyed ourselves, there was still that nagging, small voice in me that wanted to call and check on the kids constantly. “No one can take care of them like I can,” I reminded myself too often. Or I would bring up cute things they've done lately, things I'm sure I've already told Jeff about dozens of times, but he would still smile or laugh and then we would be quiet for a few minutes missing our babies like crazy.
Of course, they were fine. Jeff's sister did crafts with them (I felt like a failure when I saw that it IS possible to do crafts with toddlers, but now I've got flare for my fridge) and they ate well, slept well, behaved well, no accidents, no new bruises. It was a success. A success I'm sure my whole in-law family is glad is over.
Now this week has already started and Halloween is this week (I have no costume for James), Faith's birthday is Sunday (I'm still in sugar shock from Jamie's cake and have no presents, NOTHING), and Jeff has got days and days of work ahead of him. So I'm going to go to bed now, and pretend I'm still in la-la land of no responsibility and go read until I fall asleep and the book hits me in the face.