Time out…

Babysitter?  Check.

Overnight bag packed?  Check

Plans made and confirmed?  Check

Then commence Operation Freedom.

“Huh?”  you say?   Lemme explain.  Jon and I spent a glorious night away from the kids on Saturday.  Bringing our total number of nights away without kids in the last SIX YEARS to four.  That’s right.  Four.  In six years, folks.  We spent two nights at a hotel five minutes from our house four years ago to celebrate our anniversary when I was pregnant with Miss P.  When Miss P was almost a year old, Jon’s mom graciously agreed to watch the kids one night, and in my sleep-deprived state, I took her up on it.  We basically put P down to bed, saw a movie, ran to a hotel and slept until 8am, woke up and came back home.  So, yeah, it was time.

And after the week of snow we’d had, I was totally ready for a break from the kids.  Yeah, yeah, I know there’s those moms out there that are all “Me?  I never need a break from my little babies, I love them and want to spend every waking hour with them and not complain about it.”  Except, I am not that mom.

Jon got us a room downtown with points, and we stayed at this funky little hotel called The Curtis, part of the Hilton family of hotels.  Have you ever been in one of these?  It’s probably not for everyone, but the decor is right up my alley.  Tangerine and lime green paint and furniture, funky retro shapes, and throwback references to my childhood.  Complete with games you can borrow in the lobby like LIFE and Hungry Hippo.  We checked in to the hotel, then stepped out in the frozen tundra that is Denver to walk and forage for food.  I had made reservations for a comedy show, and we only had an hour to eat and make it over there, so we opted for pizza at Mellow Mushroom.  After stuffing our bellies, we walked over to the comedy club.  Walking, just the two of us.  Without having to beg tiny feet to pick up the pace in the freezing cold.  I had moments where it reminded me of being in New York, just the two of us.

The comedy show was short of mediocre, which was a bummer.  The host was so bad it was uncomfortable to watch.  The big act was Craig Robinson.  You know, Darryl the warehouse guy from The Office?  Didn’t know he did stand up?  Yeah, me neither.  His act was done with a keyboard, and he brought up some pop music references, some sport stuff, and got the audience involved.  Nice act, but not rip-roaring, almost-peed-in-my-pants hilarious like the last show we saw with Jon Reep.  What was most disappointing about the show?  There was a group of late-20ish folks there celebrating a birthday.  Drunk.  At 7pm.  Seriously?  Their obnoxious behavior set a bad tone for the night, and Jon and I didn’t even stick around to see the host bid us goodbye.  We spilled out of the comedy club and looked at our watch…it’s 8:45, y’all.  And it’s 20 degrees outside.

We frigidly walked around trying to find something to do, and stumbled upon a bowling alley with pool tables.  I’m pretty bad at pool, but I do like rubbing chalk on a cue, so we got a table and settled in for a while.  You know that moment when you’re finally alone with your husband, the kids have been away from  your mind long enough for you to actually tune in to him, and you hear something that makes you remember why you fell in love in the first place?  That night made me realize that we just have to get out more.  We have to make more time for each other.  Perhaps maybe not as expensive of a time as a night away, but more time.  Because in 15 years when our kids have left the nest, it will be just the two of us again.  I don’t want to turn to Jon at that point and not now how to have a conversation because that part of my brain has been slowly eaten away by kid projects, discipline, and Disney Princesses.

The bonus of this night away?  I slept in until 9am!  I woke up on my own!  No alarm clock!  No kid feet running overhead to come and get me up!  Can’t you tell by all of my exclamation marks that I am very excited by this!  We took our time getting showered, went down to breakfast, watched some morning television that wasn’t animated, and headed out for a few more hours before needing to make it back home.  And what did we do in this time, you ask?  Shop for the kids.  I hate to admit it, but it’s not the first time this has happened.  I don’t know why we feel compelled to do it.  Guilt, perhaps?  Or maybe it’s just easier to shop without them, who knows.  We came home after lunch time and the kids seemed somewhat happy to see us, with a sprinkling of “oh, it’s you again” and a smattering of “so, what’d you bring me?”  The time away, though not nearly long enough, was good for my soul.  It gave me time to feel like a functioning adult again.  But it was nice to come home, to feel moments of missing these little people.  How can I miss them if I’m never away from them?