Come Waste Your Time With Me

Recently I decided that the husband and I needed a kid free weekend. An actual overnight adventure without a tiny terrorist simultaneously killing me with cuteness and driving me to an early grave with her outrageous demands. It was now or never, I figured. As if toddler tantrums, all-consuming full-time jobs and the daily demands of life in general don't keep both of us with very little free time for anything other than a quick hello kiss and dinner in front of the television (where one of us always manages to fall asleep with the fork hanging midair), I am belly deep in baking another bundle of joy. If we didn't run away for a romantic getaway now, right this very second, we probably would never ever in a million bazillion years get to do anything again for the rest of our lives. Or until the kids fly the coop. Whichever comes first.

We settled on a quick jaunt over to Catalina Island. My parents bravely agreed to babysit, and as we said goodbye our trip was almost instantly sabotaged by the toddler terrorist as she screamed "MAMA NO!" with such intensity that my heart promptly broke into a million tiny pieces. I didn't even have time to pick up the shards of my guilt ridden heart as the husband, seeing my resolve begin to diminish, slung me over his shoulder, threw me in the car and skidded out of the driveway like a masked bandit on the run. And so, like most mothers, I began our romantic getaway by leaving my heart behind in the tiny, destructive hands of my precious, diabolical everything.

No matter! Who needs a heart when you have the vast Pacific Ocean beneath you, the sea breeze blowing through your hair, the sweet song of freedom on your lips and the man you like more than anyone else (most of the time) enjoying the ride along with you? To the outsider, we looked like the perfect picture of a footloose and fancy free couple. But inside, I was panicked. All sorts of thoughts were swirling around in my head like a tornado of doom. How is the Outlaw Bugsy Malone? What will she think when she wakes up in the morning and I'm not there? This is our first weekend away ever without her. Will she ever forgive me?

And then my thoughts turned to the man standing next to me. Oh my god, what are we going to talk about for a whole weekend? What do we have in common besides two years worth of poop, no sleep and endless episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse?  Holy crap, who is this man I married?! What's going on behind those sparkly green eyes? For the love of all things boozy, I need a cocktail. Dammit, I'm pregnant. Cocktails are off limits. Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit ohshitohshitohshit. Turn this boat around, let's call the whole thing off.

Just as I was about to take a flying leap and abandon ship, Catalina came into view and for the first time in a hundred years, the rat wheel in my mind skidded to a halt. I took a deep breath, grabbed my husband's hand and allowed myself to be swept away by the beauty of it all. I gave myself permission to put Bugsy on the back burner of my brain, knowing that she was safe and spoiled by her grandparents. I looked over at ol'e what's his name and laughed. We have over ten years of shenanigans together - how bad could this be!

We crammed so much fun into two short days it was one for the history books. Do you even know how much can be accomplished when you are not worrying about putting someone else's needs above your own? Imagine a world that is not dictated by nap time. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I know I'm not the only one, baby!

For example, you can do things like be on a boat without worrying that your toddler might catapult herself into certain slumber with the fishes:

If you are so inclined, you might want to rent a golf cart and mob around the island without car seat installation frustration:

You could stop and take in the spectacular view without hearing a tiny voice complaining about "my shoe, it's stuck" over and over:

You could leisurely kick your husband's sweet behind at miniature golf and be a total obnoxious jerk about how much you suck way less than he does:

You could ooh and aah over the wildlife without frantically chasing your tiny terrorist who insists the deer is a "doggy!" and is hell bent on pulling said dog's tail:

And, if you are feeling feisty, you could take a hike without beginning at a race worthy pace and ending with a toddler demanding to be carried the remaining 5,000 miles because she ran the first ten minutes.

Not pictured: The time we got a couple's massage and Jeremiah alleges he was molested, the time we ate ice cream all day everyday, and the time we slept until 7:30 a.m.! Oh and the time we went kayaking and Jeremiah almost got eaten by a sea lion. I've never seen him so scared - and he saw my large intestine during my c-section.

So it turns out that we do exist as a couple outside of our primary roles as Bugsy Malone's mommy and daddy. The truth is, we kinda like each other. And as the boat pulled out to sea to return us to our everyday responsibilities, as the ocean churned beneath us and promised to deliver us to the tiny terrorist holding my heart, I leaned my head back, closed my eyes and smiled inwardly at the sound of drunk early twenty-somethings behind me carrying on with their early twenty-something antics. We might be frazzled, exhausted and up to our eyeballs in freaking Doc McStuffins, but we sure are the lucky ones.