When you have a toddler, the force required for a night away is roughly equal to the escape velocity needed to exit the earth’s atmosphere. In other words, a baby free vacation is about as likely as flying to the moon. And yet, by the time you read this I will be on a plane en route to New York with a friend for a good old fashioned girl’s weekend. Just typing those words makes me feel like I might pee on myself accidentally — like a kid on Christmas — because the excitement is TOO MUCH.
But I’m also more than a little sad. I hope Ben remembers to feed Ike. And squeeze his chubby little legs for me. And smell his pretty hair.
Thankfully I don’t really have time to worry too much about that, because I am busy packing and yelping and trying to figure out how to enjoy New York without looking like a total douchewad tourist.
Ok, maybe I’m a little worried that I will come home to an unwashed baby who has subsisted mainly on soda and cookies in my absence…
Surely not, right? Everything will be fine, right? Right?
Ok, must finish packing. And preparing wholesome baby lunches. And trying not to panic. And definitely not sleeping…
I’m out. See you dudes next week!
[All photos by the amazing Martin Parr]
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