Al and I got a chance to enjoy a mini-getaway. It really is something to get away alone.
The truth of it is, you don’t know what you sign up when you have kids.
We all think about how nice it’ll be to be pregnant and glowing, make up a nursery, acquire funny anecdotes about cravings and hormones, and then have a cute baby to coo at.
But when you actually are pregnant you realize that you sweat more than you “glow”, that everything baby is priced at the rate of extortion, and that no one is all that interested in the story about how you farted your way through the Gap.
And then they grow…and they answer back as though they’re teens even though they’re only three. And they break everything they get their hands of – as if you got it for free.
Which is not to say that it’s not tremendous fun, but pass me a drink when the day is done.
Now don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change it for the world – neither the kids nor the excuse to enjoy a Martini Rossi at the end of the day. I’d like to build my brood…enjoy the laughter of childhood, and celebrate the little lives that give everything else so much meaning. But please, let’s not deny that there are those days when you temporarily forget that lovin’ feeling.
Las quiero chicas.