Turning Tables

I have written many times about our annual Seaside trip, I wrote about family camp, I even wrote about our trip to Spokane. What do all of these have in common?  They were trips I took the boys on and left Brandon home alone.  If you know me, then you also may have heard my slightly snide comments regarding how Brandon felt about these trips. This is the part of the blog where you can roll your eyes and decide I am a terrible person, it's okay.  You see, every time I left, Brandon would be sad. From the first trip when Jack was 8 weeks old, to family camp this summer, when Jack was now 8 years old, he hates when we leave.  I used to say to him, and probably my friends, MOST guys are happy when their wives leave and take all the kids with them.  I didn't understand why he had such a hard time with it.

Brandon has slowly begun to come along with us on our trips.  Seaside, is no longer a sister's weekend, more like a Sister-Wives weekend.  I did ask Brandon to come when Finn was born because I did not feel that I could keep all 3 boys safe at the ocean for the weekend. Considering I lost Jack one year, that was probably a very wise parenting decision.  Family Camp is now truly "family camp" as Brandon joins us for the weekend (that is another blog post).  There are no trips that I now take with just the boys, and part of me is sad for that.  Slight tangent: being a mom of 3 boys, I feel a strong need to do things with just the boys and myself.  Camping in the woods with just mom? I think that is a pretty cool adventure and a memory the boys will always have with them.  

So, when Brandon told me he wanted to take the boys camping, my first reaction was: no way.  Selfishly, I didn't want hm to have his own special trip when I didn't get to have one.  Also, I have a terrible fear of being home alone. Immature, probably, but still as soon it is dark, I am locked in the bathroom crying.  I blame it on the movie, Are You In the House Alone? Don't watch a scary movie with older boy cousins around. They will scare the bejezus out of you and forever cause you to be in therapy.

I handled the weekend away as I handle most things that scare me. I pretend it's not happening. Even up to the minute they were leaving, I was cleaning the bathrooms and vacuuming. Packing, nope. Food shopping, not my job. I had no idea what clothes they were taking, what they were going to eat, or how Brandon planned to handle the weekend.  Even avoiding the issue, 4:00 still came, and the boys all climbed into the car.  

And that is when I started to cry. I tried to not cry in front of the boys, but it took Brandon a heck of time to finally get in the car to leave. By that time Jack said, "Mom, you have tears in your eyes." and then "Mom, I do too".  I give them the best smile I could, made a funny joke about having to take care of the dogs, and went inside.  And cried some more.  

Because now I know why Brandon hates it.  I did enjoy having time to myself at home, but I missed the boys so much.  I hated going to bed alone at night and having no one there to keep me warm. (Not to be mistaken with how much I love my weekend away, that is something I still love). But being home, without my family, was sad.

When I stopped crying, I went upstairs to get the coffee Brandon had made for me, and saw this:

And then I smiled.

Full Disclosure: I did not stay home alone, because I am that much of a wuss, my 16 year old niece stayed with me to keep me safe.