8.16.2011

We're Going To Need a Delorean For This Vacation!

I love Mr. Lindstrom, that's why we got married, but more importantly (in many ways), I really like my husband.  We are, as the cliche goes, the very best of friends.  He gets me, and I get him. We have always just loved spending time together.  Having kids has not changed the fact that we really like each other, but having kids definitely changed the fact that we don't get to spend the same kind of time together.

In 2002, when we were first married, Mr. Lindstrom and I would spend Saturdays and Sundays just hanging out.  We were always down for a trash talking game of Yahtzee, we could spend hours in the kitchen making one meal that would take us all of 15 minutes to eat, we knew all the best happy hours in the city, and if a Real World/Road Rules Challenge marathon was on MTV we were glued to the boob-tube for hours on end.  I'm sure we were stressed out about things like money, our mortgage, the responsibility of taking care of our dog, and countless other things, but I don't remember that.  I only remember the freedom and spontaneity of life before kids. In my mind's eye, it seemed simpler then.

Mr. Lindstrom and I have a pretty sweet arrangement with our babysitter, and have committed to spending a couple nights a week together without the kids.  This is essential for the health of our marriage, and I highly recommend it to others if you can make it possible.  BUT, when we are away from the kids, the kids are still there... not with us per se, but hanging out in our brains. They show up in conversations from time to time, we check in with the babysitter at reasonable intervals, and they are always present in our conscious. They are, after all, part of us. We would never change that.  

Mr. Lindstrom whisked me away for a birthday/anniversary weekend in Chicago (which, I should amend, was really only an overnight). The planning for a 24 hour trip required months of preplanning, and a willing team of grandparents and babysitters (our brood is pretty exhausting). It was lovely to be away, but I'm not sure I ever relaxed. I was tethered to my home wondering how everyone was, and missing them terribly. When you have children, especially when they are small, you give up that freedom and spontaneity that you had before they came along.  I am so very lucky to have my children. I love being their mother. I would not trade my life for anything in the entire world. I am only saying that I wish I would have had the full breadth of understanding before I had them so that I could have really enjoyed the freedom and spontaneity when I had it.

So, when I came home from work the other day, after interviewing a Marriage and Family Therapist who focused very much on how children change a marriage, I was pining away for those days.  I started to reminisce with Mr. Lindstrom about what it was like to be able to walk out the door in one minute, sit through an entire church service without disruption, cook an intricate meal for hours (and not have it land on the floor when small hands get in a throwing mood) and then enjoy it, make plans five minutes in advance of an occasion vs. five weeks (have to make sure we can get a babysitter), take a shower until the hot water ran out (and sometimes even... together), and on... and on... and on...  I know what we signed up for, and we love it, and I know we can take mini vacations from it from time to time, but the truth is that away is never really away.

So, Mr. Lindstrom and I are looking into a vacation back in time. Back to 2002. Just for a day. We need a Delorean, a crazy professor, and a flux capacitor. Does anyone know of a travel agency that deals with these types of vacations?

3 comments:

  1. If you do find a time-travel agency that also provides childcare, I am so going with you.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Oh, I love your posts. Please don't ever stop blogging. You are brilliant.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Very touching to read. Encourages me to enjoy all these moments of 'freedom' I have, but I think I might prefer the babies.

    ReplyDelete

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