Breathless with happiness I am. The Viking and I are finally getting away for a two-day overnight break. As of April 19th, we have been hitched for 10 years. For better or worse, with bills, laundry, ear infections and a guest toilet that might be breeding a new mutant viral strain. But we’ll talk about that no more.
Now that I see it in writing, the first two sentences score high on the pathetic stakes. Being a parent has driven me this – flipping cartwheels over a getaway in the city I freaking live in!
I won’t even get into the litany of woes that begins with Poor Planning Skills and ends with the Viking saying, “You’ll make the arrangements, right?”
Yes, he’s all about the chivalry and romantic surprise, this one.
Arvind, heir apparent to our throne, is not so thrilled at being outsourced for the weekend, even though he adores his uncle, aunt and cousins.
Arvind: Why are you going away for the weekend?
Me: Well, because Pappa and I want to celebrate having been married for 10 years.
Arvind: Whats married?
Me: When two people like each other so much, that they decide to love each for the rest of their lives and build a family. And Mamma says, “Till death – or Hugh Jackman – rippling abs, pecs and all – do us part.”
Obviously didn’t say that out loud. Swear I only muttered it under my breath. Oh, grow a funny bone people!
Arvind: Well, I want to come too.
Me: Well baby, Mamma and Pappa would really like to have this time alone (without two human condoms wedged between us) to do fun stuff together and just enjoy being with each other. We love spending time with you two, but we really need time alone too. As kjærester.
Norwegian word, which loosely transalated means beloved to each other. Also denotes romantic relationship.
Arvind: Ewww. What are you going to do?
Me: Oh, stuff. Grown-up stuff. You’d be super bored.
- A dinner without a string of spaghetti or the slightest blob of bolognese sauce.
- Theatre thats not Pippi Longstocking(though I’ll always love you Pippi!).
- A suite thats hopefully the size of Singapore.
- Fluffy robes.
- Clean sheets which have never suffered the indignities of pamper leakage.
- Buffet breakfast.
- Not being woken up at 6:30 by a little palm slapping your face and gleefully yelling, “Hi! Uppy Uppy!”
- Aimless, jobless joy.
Fare ye well, my spawn. This might be a good time to say we will miss you, but (adorable as you both are.. kisskiss) we most assuredly will not. Yes, we’re evil like that.
Crispy sheets – you – I will miss on Monday.
Toodle doo, folks!