This weekend was a first for me:
I went away. On a women's retreat. Without any kids.
I'd never been away from the kids for more than one night.
And that was 3 or 4 years ago, so I don't even know if it counts.
Plus they were with Grandma that night, so they didn't really notice if I was gone.
Mike took an extra day off work, and I drove to Asheville with some other ladies from church. (I call them "OWLs": older, wiser ladies.) We stayed in cabins outfitted with rows of bunkbeds, reminding me of all those summers at camp when I was growing up. I didn't remember the mattress being so uncomfortably thin though. The mountain air seemed fresher. The hills didn't bother me at all. I've missed summers at camp. Ever year at the end of May I get a little nostalgic... Maybe when my kids are old enough to go away to summer camp, I can help out for a few days somewhere. I'd really like that.
Anyway, we had a great time, encouraging each other, doing trust activities, devotionals, writing stories, and basketweaving. Yes, I said basketweaving. The lady who taught us was certainly a character I won't soon forget. I also got some quiet time alone to hike around the property. It was nice to get some exercise, have quiet, and relax for a few dayss. I loved having someone else cook all the food.
And the kids didn't seem to miss me at all. They had fun with their Dad. He does things with them that I don't do, like letting them buy candy in the grocery store check-out aisle. Or feeding them dessert after every meal. Or reading way more bedtime stories than I would have the patience for. I know that they were fed and dressed and happy, and mostly all clean, when I got back. The house wasn't clean, but at least the kids were smiling.
It's good to be home.