Retail Therapy

Wow - a night without children. What was I thinking? As I write this, I am wishing more than ever that my children were snug in their beds with visions of Little Debbies dancing in their heads. Basically, this is how the cookie crumbles. Scott had a great week at work. The children are as cute as cute can be. I'm as happy as a lark. However, when that expedition pulled away from the parking pad today I felt a sense of emptiness. A part of me was gone. Not to worry, Ann Taylor Loft and the Gap filled my sense of loneliness. At one point I thought about going to Macaroni Grille and ordering takeout. The sausage pepper classico is my favorite. Instead, I opted for a second round of Williams Sonoma and a trip to Starbucks. Mea Culpa I did not take a picture of my new friends that suggested the vanilla cinnamon dolce. It was great btw. The sugar free cinammon rocked my world. On the way home I pondered on the great time I had in PTC and the freedom I felt. The whole time thinking, did I buy Scott the acid wash that he likes? Did I buy LG the glitter lotion from BBW? Did Little Bax get anything? Sarah, the clerk at the GAP, my new friend, is dying to read my latest post. It is in a state of exhaustion Sarah, I'm sad to report. The shopping I did sans children was meaningless. I saw the woman with the stroller at the Gap and consumed myself in a 30-minute conversation about how old her baby was. She was nine months and cute as can be. This was my night of retail therapy and I honestly didn't know what to do with myself.

Scott, my absolute best friend, confidant, editor, best person to receive a pedicure and easiest person to make fun of on the planet is snug in the bed at my parents house at the beach. He is dreaming of prisoners in GA. He is dreaming of each one of the Supreme Court Justices. He is dreaming of a life better than the one he knows and I love him. That person lives to make my life and his children's lives a better one. He now knows about spit up, grunts that mean Baxter wants more french fries. Cries that mean I want a Koala now - in a men's bathroom next to the urinals. Thank God that I am married to a man that is comfortable with his masculinity. He has now driven the children 4 hours, stopped at McDonalds, changed diapers on the 3rd seat of the and ordered chocolate milk as to passify a 2 yr-od. He has experienced traveling; he is a better person because of it.

I can say all of that because he is not here to edit my post. I have been to PTC. I have had my retail therapy. I miss them terribly. However, I know they are in good hands because they are now with my mother and father which will feed them pancakes and bacon and will treat them like a queen and king. Don't worry, Scott will receive the Uncle Hershel's Cracker Barrel Breakfast before he sets off on his trek to Valdosta tomorrow.

Sat. a.m. I will be back to doing what I do best - changing stinky diapers and watching Dora get to the Lost City by way of forest, bridge, tall mountain. The question now remains: what will I do on Friday with my last night of freedom?