Why my kids will be guests on Dr. Phil

One night when we were getting ready to move to Medicine Hat, my parents, having just moved to Salmon Arm, took our kids for the night so we could do some serious packing. And we did. We actually managed to pack 90% of our house in one day.

As far as I can remember that is the only night that Hugh and I have spent together away from our kids since they were born. Let me just remind you all that they were 2 last Saturday. That makes it 736 days minus 1 of not being away from them for the night.

But tomorrow we will be making it minus 2! Hugh and I are going to Calgary for the weekend. Alone. As in, not having to pack a rubbermaid container full of clothes for every disaster or weather situation imagineable. As in not needing to bring 2 playpens, 2 booster seats, another rubbermaid of toys, blankets, teddy's. As in 1 suitcase. Well probably 2 because I do have that shoe fetish after all. As in not having to listen to Baby Einstein on the portable DVD for hours on end. As in ALONE! Oh the bliss.

Originally to cut costs Hugh and I were going to camp. We actually have a camper but we'd have to insure the truck and then that's not exactly cutting costs anymore. So when I say camp I mean in a tent. On the ground. If that doesn't say romance I don't know what does. Personally I was never too keen on the idea. Besides the fact that the weather network is now predicting snow for the weekend, I don't enjoy the thought of getting woken up by the sun at the crack of dawn. We're up then anyway and this is supposed to be a get away. I want to sleep in. In a bed. With lots of pillows. And room service. And a personal masseuse. In Paris.

To compromise we're staying in a Bed & Breakfast. This also works for me. It's a bed. In a house. And I don't have to make cer-er-al for breakfast. I don't have to make anything. For anyone. Oh the bliss.

You'd think after 736 days minus 1 I would be singing at the top of my lungs and doing a little happy dance. Well we've hit a snag. We've come up against something neither of us counted on. It's called Mother Guilt. With a capital G.

After finding someone to stay with our kids and working out our accomodations and our itinerary, (did I mention that I also have an obsession with lists?), we went to bed content; ready to sleep and dream sweet dreams of no silly songs for 2 whole days. At 2:45am I was making myself hot milk and reading through Leviticus to try to make myself fall asleep. I was up almost all night worrying about leaving my kids. What if they're scared or confused because they're not with us? What if they break something, like their heads, and I'm not there? What if they cry the entire time we're gone? I fast-forwarded to when the kids were in their 20's and in therapy because they struggled with abandonment issues and had low self-esteem. By the way I'm also the Queen of The Worst Case Senario.

I honestly never thought I would be like this. I always imagined that if given this opportunity I would jump in my car, well mini-van, and speed off into the sunset. Apparently that's not the case. Suddenly, the kids are being extra adorable and really they're not that much work. Maybe I don't really need the break...

But it's too late. Our B&B is booked. I have an appointment to get my hair cut. We have people who've rearranged their schedules to watch our kids. We're going. I guess I have no choice but to suck it up and have a really great weekend alone with my husband.

If I can just manage to leave that guilty mother behind...