I was up at the ridiculous hour of 2:45 this morning. My husband and two youngest sons are going to California for Jocko's volleyball tournament. Their plane leaves at 6 a.m., which means they're supposed to be at the airport around 4:30 a.m. And we had to pick up my father-in-law, who lives a half hour from us. I'm proud to report that I got everyone dropped off in time.
I'm sad to report that I cried a few tears as I drove away. It was my decision not to go--well, sort of. We couldn't afford for all of us to fly (the only reason Jr. is even going is that my FIL offered to pay for his ticket), and the tournament conflicts with my Katy Trail bike ride. Plus, I'm off all summer, and my husband gets very little time off. Since I take my bike week, I wanted him to have something fun to do, too. Don't want him getting resentful of my time.
So. Yes, it was my choice. I was even excited about it. Yes, they're flying to California, but I am getting basically 5 days to do whatever I want to do. Hamlet is still home, but he works, and at 17 isn't too high maintenance. I was actually looking forward to the time alone. I still am, but it's tempered with sadness. I wish I could see Jocko's team play. I wish I could be there for Jr.'s first plane flight. I wish I could relax with my husband in California (as relaxing as a 4-day volleyball tournament can be).
On the other hand, they'll take lots of pictures and have all kinds of stories for me. Hopefully the house will be nice and clean when they get back. I'll have plenty of time to relax. There's a cost to doing what you want, but as prices go, I can afford this one. Kleenex are cheap. :)
Pictures, on the other hand, are priceless.