Tripping.

I am sitting at my kitchen counter, waiting for the pizza that will feed my three kids and their grandma and grandpa, my husband’s parents, for dinner.  Not long after the pizza man knocks, the bell will toll for me, and it will be a taxi taking me and a suitcase to the airport.  

Grandma and Grandpa are here all week, spending Thanksgiving with the kids at our house, and me?  Well, I am going to be… elsewhere!  And (except from 8 to 5) with Mark!

I will have plenty of time during the day while he is at work, assisting with tweaking the controls on the startup of a snack-food line.   Keeping my fingers crossed that when Friday rolls around he will not be needed anymore and we can dash off for a weekend before both of us return home together next week.

At this point I should pause and note that we have spent exactly one night away from the children since our oldest was born at the turn of the century, and we have never gone anywhere just the two of us on a plane since our honeymoon.

The time went by…. really fast?  And we enjoyed going places with our kids, and occasionally alone while the other stayed back?  What I am saying is, no regrets.

But just in time for our twentieth anniversary is a good time to go have a little fun.  (Thanks to those lovely grandparents.)

Perhaps I will report back later?