Last night I made 22 lists on color coded index cards of all the things I wanted to do on this three day weekend. Yes, a three day weekend, at home, by myself, with just the Fanny (our Springer Spaniel) two guinea pigs, one cockatiel and a turtle. Then I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until 10:00. I never sleep ‘til 10:00. Never! Okay, let’s back up. Nothing happens in our family without immense preparation, planning and support. That’s just how it is with a child and menagerie like ours. So, when my husband, after brooding about it for six months, decided at the last minute to go to his family reunion this weekend, I leap into action. First on the list, childcare. Sometimes playing the “emergency” card works in your favor. It’s also essential to have a few incredible friends who “get it” because they have children of their own with special needs. Next, plane fare. We pretty quickly decided that at these prices, he was flying solo. Somehow all the arrangements were made. Wait, let me rephrase that: I spent two days furiously organizing, shopping, packing, booking flights and car rental, downloading boarding passes and parking coupons, writing out medication and last minute reminder lists lists, etc. and everyone was ready to go.
Our wonderful friend insisted that Natalya should come stay even though I wasn’t flying to Wisconsin with my husband and I should have a weekend for myself. Three days, bliss. Then there is my daughter. Last month we spent a week in the beautiful White Mountains of New Hampshire, our first vacation in two years. The first two days I spent inside our cramped timeshare overlooking the parking lot, catching up with bills and cleaning up my computer while my daughter refused to go anywhere. Her stomach hurt. She had a headache. Terry went on long bike rides exploring the country roads surrounding the pretty towns of Lincoln and Woodstock. Then we tried dragging her along and her complaints just got louder, her head droopier, her shoulders slumpier. Finally we left her to be miserable on her own. Hey, she’s 16, and had some fun (or at least dinner out and a gondola ride). So, on Thursday, here comes the stomach ache. She can even make herself sick worrying about visiting her best friend! I gave her three hours to get over it Friday morning and I dragged her to school in tears. I haven’t heard a peep since. No panic calls “Momma come get me!” No calls at all. So, with 22 lists of things to do, Fanny and I are just kicking back and sleeping in.