This week, I’m heading out of town for three days. Two nights, two plane rides and 39 of what I like to call “post it notes of crazy” left for Jamie while I’m gone.
Fully capable to care for the kids, and probably more fun than I would ever be, the post it notes have reminders of what to pack in Olivia’s lunch, and to clean the master bathroom. They have reminders of where the kids are going each day, and reminders that Spud is coming on Wednesday night. There’s a post it note detailing what to make for dinner (but let’s face it, we know he’s not going to make dinner) and post it notes reminding him of the challenge spelling words that we’ve been working on with Olivia.
If you were to look at the post it notes, you would think that I’m not going to be in touch with him – at all, over the next few days. Funny, because we exchange no less than one hundred text messages a day, a couple of face time phone calls and a long, drawn-out, oh my god single parenting is so hard and sleeping in this luxurious hotel room alone is so hard – before we go to sleep.
The post it notes give me some solitude, lessen the worry a tiny bit, and reassure myself that thing are going to be okay while I’m gone – and it’s going to be so wonderful to be the one gone for a couple days, coming home to kids that have been woken out of bed to meet me at the airport, late, late, Thursday night.
Here’s to the 40th post it note of crazy, “flight arrives home at 11:35”.