So at exactly 7:28 this morning things got weird. Anson and Roan stepped into a big black sedan, after throwing a few bags into it, and sped away, airline tickets in hand. Without me. I stood on my Brooklyn stoop and wondered if I should go back inside, or if I should just sit down and wait the five days until they get back. And here I am, still stuck on the steps, five hours later.
No no no I kid. I actually ran back inside because I was barefoot and morning-faced and there was a still-hot coffee waiting for me on the counter. I mean, c’mon. My life doesn’t revolve around these guys, it just includes them. I’m totally fine on my own, yesiree, and please ignore the twelve times I reminded Anson to make sure to brush Roan’s teeth at night, the thirty-six times I mentioned that he needs to make an effort to get fruit and veggies in front of the kid, the one or two (or let’s be honest, eighteen) times I reminded Anson that Roan has to wear a helmet while on a bicycle even during dad/son vacay, and the tears that poured out of my eyes even before I took the thirteen steps to our apartment door from the stoop. Yup. Totally relishing that I am free from the binding constraints of motherhood and wifehood for five days. Wahooooooo! Those guys were only really slowing me down anyway. Cramping my style. Sucking out my mojo. I am already restored to the tigress I was pre-marriage and pre-motherhood. Bring it on! Of course, they did leave me with the twins. So I’m maybe not totally a tigress. Or maybe I am totally a tigress, but just a knocked-up one. Ok. Rar. Watchout.
I’m also so happy for my son to be able to share this time with his pops. Under my large voice and dark shadow, I wonder sometimes if Anson gets enough of his own light to shine on Roan. Anson is so devoted to him, so fascinated by him, and gets only a few hours a day with him. Roan eats up every second with his dad, and often quotes him to me. In the not-too-distant-future, I imagine despite my best efforts Roan will feel a little sad when my attention needs to be shared with Baby A and Baby B (working titles). I believe that Anson will be the one to fix this impending sadness, and I am so grateful that they’re getting this time, now, to learn to rely on each other. Without me.
*Ahem* Without me.
Yeh, well, I can’t be selfless for too terribly long. Afterall – this is my “me” time. For the next five days. That’s a lot of “me”. If you don’t hear from me in a few days, I’ve probably overdosed on “me”. Call an interventionist and send some ice-cream.