…is not something I’ve thought of in a long time, mainly because the kids are grown now.
I’d like to think it was something I could still do, because God knows I could use a break from them, but alas, the time for this has come and gone!
They (the children) haven’t gotten out yet, but they have matured some. Well, matured may be giving them a little too much credit at this point. Let’s just say they’ve encountered several birthdays since the old camp days.
God I love ‘em, but boy, what I could do with their rooms if they were empty. Just sayin…
When they were little, I’d send them off with their cute little bags, their socks stuffed with snacks I knew wouldn’t be allowed. I’d help them sneak in soda so they could maintain their sugar level. I was bad! But I was smart enough never to give them cell phones. Last thing I wanted was for those little buggers to pester me.
But….my cell-phone-less children loved me for it!
I was the Goddess who provided them with a sufficient amount of junk/crap/bad food, thus in their minds, I was good.
I was the perfect mother!
I had IT!
I rocked their world and that’s all that mattered!
But I knew.
I was the devil in disguise is what I was!
But I didn’t give a flying fuck. It got them out of the house and out of sight for a while. I could R.E.L.A.X!
I wouldn’t have to pick up their dirty clothes, or make their bed, or cook for them, or chauffeur them, or do their homework, or drive them to school, or the dentist, or the doctor, or the park, or to a play date, or entertain and babysit their friends, which was often the case.
I never took the blame when a zit popped up on their face, nor when they’d spike a little belly fat.
Never, ever, once, did I blame it on the sugar or my poor choices.
I always put it back on them. Told them it was because they never kept their face clean. It was plain old dirt that caused those zits, and as for the belly fat, well, that was caused by their lack of exercise, lazy little sots that they were. It was the damned video games that would take the fall for any excess bulges they encountered. I’ll be damned if they think I’m going to take the blame for that.
So back to me…
I hadn’t really thought about sending myself off to sleep away camp until recently. It would be just what the doctor ordered!
No kids, no husband, no dog, no house, no house cleaning, no phone, no need to be anywhere, (kids) no…Mom where’s the…can we go…can I have…can you get me…will you…why can’t I… (husband) where’s dinner…can we walk now…how about a blow job…did you iron my shirt… (dog) where’s my damned breakfast…why isn’t the front door open…can I have a treat…where’s my toy…I need to walk now I have to poop…
Just thinking about eliminating all of the above makes. my. nipples. hard!
At his point in my life it takes a bit of effort to make that happen…but the thought of sleep away camp somehow sounds sooooo intriguing right now because I’m a homebody, a housewife, a mate, a mother, a teacher, a mentor, a negotiator, a referee, a sex slave, an organizer, a multi-tasker, a confidant, and chief cook and bottle washer.
Many times, in the middle of the night, (and I mean the middle of the night when the moon is straight over the house and most normal people are still sleeping), I am sitting at my computer googling far off places, people and things that are exotic, erotic, and far from home (should I also say far from my comfort zone?).
My imagination takes a journey (as it often does). I can visualize myself, off in the distance, where the water and sand come to life on my computer screen.
I’m lying on a beach (or depending on your budget an unfamiliar well stuffed couch). You’ve got a tall cool drink in one hand and a delicious novel (insert cough) or at least something novel in the other. Oh my! You let your mind wander around someone else’s words (or…well never mind) and you’re transported to wherever the story/person/thing takes you…
Meals magically appears before you, served by some young stud/man/boy who no doubtedly doubles as an actor later on in his day. You can’t help notice the tight black pants, the crisp white shirt, the smell of freshly showered skin, the…
It ain’t ever going to happen but dream we shall.
You are served morning, noon, and night. (again this is where a good imagination comes in handy)
There is nothing to pick up, clean up, put up with, or put out to.
It’s just you and this delicious dream.
What is that I hear off in the distance as the sun crests the east.
I’ll be back.
I have to get coffee for the hubby.