After spending six days at home with the kids, enduring rain storm after wind storm after rain storm, Greg being away in Vegas for roulette, late night parties and cigars work, I was anxious to sneak away with my two best girlfriends for an overnight shopping trip.

I knew I couldn’t leave the house until the kids were set up with; a birthday party gift for Hanna’s friend, a list of things to buy from Costco, micro-managing every aspect of their lives. I realized I had to step back and give my family some much deserved credit but not before organizing the fridge so the foods they would most like access to were front and centre and therefore would have a better chance at being spotted and therefore eaten. I wouldn’t be there to answer when one of them shouted, “Do we have any yogurt?” Yes, there are thirty-six, bottom shelf, back right.

We headed across the border, passports at the ready, each of us with an empty suitcase and the clothes on our backs. We play a dangerous game forcing ourselves to buy a new outfit to wear out for dinner the night of our trip and if we don’t find anything, we’re stuck in our moms-in-desperate-need-of- girlfriend-time shopping uniforms; elbow pads, running shoes with lifts, coupon booklets, sweat bands…

First stop, the shoe store, second stop Starbucks to recharge after the first store.

It was so lovely to catch up with my friends over racks of discounted t-shirts, kid’s dresses and wedge shoes.

A great way to escape the everyday routine, there were however reminders of children everywhere. People pushing strollers and despite our efforts to focus only on ourselves and our dazzling new dinner ensemble, it was tough to pass a children’s clothing store with a 75% off sale in the window without wandering in.

At one store I was politely told I was not permitted to sit on the “furniture” (a giant white cube with six mannequins mounted on top with raised stairs holding piles of folded clothes). No problem, although it was comfortable laying quietly among the mannequins really getting into character. I walked three feet into the mall corridor and sat on a mechanical car, depriving a child of the warm, hard, plastic seat and I smiled knowing the kids begging their parents to feed the machine a quarter were someone else’s problem, not mine. Graphic tees with “Mommy’s Little Angel” made me second guess my choice to get away. I think I saw one that said, “Mommy, you’re free as a bird, fly,” but it was right beside, “My Mommy abandoned us.”

We headed to a Wine Cellar and bought the best bottle of champagne we could find and headed to the hotel room.

There were no diapers or butt cream in my suitcase although one of the girls did bring a package of wipes that were used often. That just makes good sense.

We talked about life, work, future plans, Phineas and Ferb Band-Aids and we did it all quietly without a running loop on YouTube playing videos of the girl’s favourite songs or Elmo’s World in the background.

We saw Aretha Franklin—yep. She walked into the restaurant where we were eating grown-up food with grown-up utensils, chopsticks without the plastic piece binding them together. Everyone cheered, she was short and surrounded by security guards.  We spent longer than necessary humming the words to R-E-S-P-E-C-T, but we did it without interruption.

We agreed to sleep in before hitting the shops again and for the three of us anything past 6am would feel like noon. At 5:18am I heard a baby screeching in the adjacent room. It was shrieking and inconsolable. That or, no one was trying to console it and it cried for several minutes before things got quiet again. While I was relieved it wasn’t my baby, it was still forty-two minutes earlier than I was used to waking up to a crying baby so for that, I give the hotel-one, Mommy-sleep-in, zero.

Until next year ladies.

I’ll be in the “Wishing we could do it more often” Mom-Jeans.