So. We had been planning a trip to Paris since Christmas, knowing all along that we would be leaving her with my mother in law for the week. Prior to our rip to Paris, we also knew we were going to a wedding in Texas. Blissful, ignorant little me thought Marlowe was coming to Texas, mostly because Jeff told me she was invited and left it at that. Then, 3ish days before the wedding Jeff told me that he “thought” it would be better if Marlowe didn’t come because, “oh by the way babe, I forgot to tell you that at the bachelor party in New Orleans while at a strip club and totally fucking hammered me and all the guys decided we aren’t bringing kids, hahahahaa awesome, right?!”
Fuck you Jeff.
So we flew my mother in law up for a trial run while we went to Texas. I rationalized my way through this and agreed that it would be good for his mom to get used to caring for her, and because it is certainly easier to fly home from Houston if I was wildly uncomfortable with the separation. I was training myself for Paris, right? But nobody actually believes I was going to have such bad separation anxiety that I'd fly home from anywhere. Like, lets call a spade a spade here. As I write this, I am desperate to be in Siberia with only a cell phone, a box of pop-tarts and a case of wine. Favorite pop-tart flavor?... blueberry frosted. And anyone who likes the s'mores flavored pop-tarts should be shot.
So anyway, leaving Marlowe was sad. I planted at least 64,000 kisses on her before we left. Once in the uber I was a little more sad. But then…. FUCKING FREEDOM BABY! I didn’t give a shit about how much she ate for dinner, if she drank enough milk, bath time, bedtime BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. I figured my mother in law raised two (mostly) competent kids* and Marlowe is a pretty easy baby. In the back of my head I knew she probably wan’t going to be eating organic fruits and vegetables and one of her primary food sources for the weekend would be whatever the FDA allows WalMart to label as edible but… whatever…I recently gave her a happy meal, so who am I to judge? (Happy Meal side note: I didn't want to take the liberty of deciding for her if she's a chicken nugget lady or a cheeseburger lady, so I bought both. Spoiler alert: she's a cheeseburger lady, in case that unknown might keep you up at night.)
*see strip club story, supra
(On another somewhat related note, it makes me giggle to think that the opposite of organic food is not “inorganic food”. The presence of carbon is still very much in whatever Tyson dinosaur shape, rainbow colored chicken nuggets Marlowe probably ate all week. Have I mentioned how grateful I am to have such a great mother in law?)
OK so back to the fucking point here.
Top 5 reasons traveling without your baby is glorious:
1. You are not traveling with a baby. Do I seriously need to fucking elaborate for you guys here?
2. Hotel sex. Like, why is it just so much better?
3. Naps. We can both a nap at the same time?!! We don’t have to debate and make deals and/or bets to see which lucky soul gets to take a nap that day? Just the thought brings a smile to my face because I am starting to feel mild guilt about how few naps Jeff takes.
4. Bedtime and mealtimes are irrelevant. Jeff and I ALWAYS ate at the bar before Marlowe train wrecked our lives. To this day, whenever we walk into a restaurant with said train wreck, we look at each other and say, “bar?” and then a little piece of each of us shrivels up and dies while he hauls the baby and I haul her bag full of, seriously, everything to a table in the depressing dining room. Time elapses by 6 minutes and then we are finally fucking situated and simultaneously ready to leave. I am not going to represent to you loyal readers that I don't longingly stare at the people at the bar who had the good sense not to procreate, because I don't believe in lying to my fan base. However, when traveling without The Best Thing That Ever Happened to Us, Jeff and I ate at the bar for every meal and EVEN stayed out partying until 1a.m. Holy. Fucking. Shit. We rejoined the human population for the weekend.
5. You are not traveling with a baby. I think this point is strong enough to write twice, and since its my blog, if you don’t like it… see you never.
When we retuned from Houston, the first thing we did was take Jeff’s mom and Marlowe out to dinner. Here we are… back in dining room / highchair purgatory.