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A rare opportunity to not wear pants

By Richie Ann Ashcraft

Last week, I met Robin downtown and told her about my upcoming plans to attend a work conference in Colorado Springs. It meant three nights in a hotel room without the hubby, children, the dog or the cat touching me while I slept. I've fantasized about a hotel key of my own for a long time. Needless to say, I was pretty excited.

As we parted ways, she said, "Enjoy not wearing any pants!"

Taking her advice, I didn't pack any of my usual sweat or pajama bottoms for lounging. I packed a nightgown. Stopped at the store and bought myself a number of luxury deli items like gouda and salami. Then, I shopped for my own minibar at the liquor store. It included cheap mini bottles of champagne. Oh, and did I mention it was my birthday? Not that I need an excuse for mini bottles of champagne but it seemed like a good justification to do-up this hotel fantasy right.

After six hours on the Interstate, I arrived in the hotel lobby just ahead of coworkers, Melinda and Rachel. You can read their blog here. The road had beaten us down. Our hair needed brushed. Melinda declared "I'm freakin' starving!"

I invited them to a pseudo-classy cocktail hour in my room. Did I mention that my room had a couch? Cuz it totally did and it was awesome! That's where I declared my intentions to not wear pants while watching copious amounts of TLC all weekend. Best quote of the whole weekend probably, Melinda said.

During the day, we sat in training.

At night, we headed downtown to an Irish Pub. But, not so secretly, I really couldn't wait to get back to my room to take off my pants and watch cable. I know, lots of people like to use work conferences to have a few drinks and cut loose. Maybe catch a show in a bigger city or check out the local shopping scene. I just wanted to use it as a momcation. A chance to enjoy some silence, some uninterrupted sleep and complete control of the remote. Maybe it's lame, but I don't care. At a point in my life where solitude is rare, I was going to enjoy every minute of alone time I could get.

On the final night, I found a Walgreen's where I bought myself some nice tweezers and a Cosmo. My room was cozy, the cable was streaming, and I hadn't drank all the wine yet. I painted my toes dark gray.

Then I called all my boys. I missed them. I told them I'd be home soon and I couldn't wait to hold them in my arms, every single one of them, including the dog and the cat.

It sounds lame, but three nights was too many. The first one, awesome. The second one, okay. As soon as the toes were pretty though, I was done.

This quiet is not my life anymore. It once was, but it's gone now. My life is chaotic and loud. There's crying and arguing and loud noises. There's sounds of building in the garage and football on the T.V. The dog barks. And, although it hurts my ears some days, the sounds of a bustling household are welcome. I love most of them. And, I missed all of them.

I didn't linger long on the way back home.

As I tucked Marek into bed he hugged me and said "Mommy, don't ever go to Colorado Springs again. I missed you."

Aw, it's good to miss each other every once in a while, but it's good to be back home too.

COMMENTS

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It nice to get away but it’s so much better to get home. Happy birthday to my dear friend and fellow Haute Mama!

Thanks Robin — getting old ain’t so bad. :)

Three nights IS too many—whether I’m camping, having a momcation, or whatever. It just seems that after two nights I need to be back in my own place. Fun read!




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