Hey, hey, hey! Good-bye!

I just finished signing up my three precious, wonderful children for camp. They will each be gone for an entire week. The same week. Rebecca’s going to my parents’ house and will spend five fun-filled days at their church’s day camp. Michael and Amy will be going to a sleep-over camp just north of where we are now.

Is that sinking in for anyone else?

All three of my children will be gone for an entire week!

Is it wrong that I’m so excited?

I have not had an entire week to myself since Michael was born in 1994. Almost twelve whole years. That’s 4380 days. 105,120 hours. 6,307,200 minutes. Getting the picture? That’s a dadgum long time to be surrounded by children. (Boy, I hope I did that math right.)

Don’t get me wrong: I love my children. I love being a mom. I can’t imagine doing anything other than raising my children. Motherhood is truly a high and noble calling. But when the camp brochures came in the mail and I realized I could arrange an entire week alone my heart skipped a beat.

I am already planning those days. I’ll go horseback riding, work on my photo albums, sleep in, stay up late … the possibilities are endless! I am giddy with joy. I am actually laughing out loud!

And I can tell you what I won’t do: laundry! No laundry for an entire week. And I won’t have to fix lunch! Maybe I’ll hang up my apron altogether that week. We’ll eat out each night! Oh my word, I’m not sure I can wait until June!

I told Sean of my plan and he said, “Maybe I’ll arrange to take a day or two off that week, too!” Hmmm. Maybe one day. And he’ll have to fix his own lunch.