Taking a breath....

So Eric and the boys just pulled out of the driveway, on their way to our stake's father-son camp out. This is a yearly tradition in our church, and the one of the hight-lights of Eric and Brigham's year. I remember our second year in Seattle, Eric declared that he was taking the boys, who were all of 2 1/2 and 1. I wavered all week between letting him take the baby and keeping him, my mind changing with the onset of a runny nose, moments of desperation for alone time, the wind, etc. In the end, he took both boys and I had about 20 hours of blissful solitude. Sprinkled with bouts of separation anxiety and paranoia that someone would break into our apartment and they would come home to find me in pieces on the living room floor. Or that they would all drown in a freak canoe accident. Or get ticks. Or, gulp, not miss me.

And so it is that every May, as the time for the camp out approaches, I vacillate wildly between wanting and not wanting them to go. On the one hand, it is so, so nice to be alone in a quiet house, eat what I want for dinner, when I want, and stay up as late as I want with the knowledge that absolutely no one but the birds is going to wake me up in the morning. In the early days I scrambled to find friends to pass the time with, drinking up the moments of deep conversation without children demanding our attention. But these days I actually prefer to just be alone. On the other hand, however, I still fight back the urge to cry when they drive away down the street. I stand on the porch and make silly faces at them the way my grandmother used to do when my brother and I left with our parents after an extended visit, crying inconsolably. And isn't that another of the great mysteries of motherhood? The way in which the constant desire to escape your children, your home, your responsibilities somehow coexists with the intense need to be with them, to smell, see and feel them in all their precious, innocent glory?

Of course what I think is actually moot. A few days ago Eric came home from school incredibly stressed out. The words, "you don't have to go on the father-son campout this weekend" almost came out of my mouth. But then I realized that that idea would be shot down as soon as I said it, so I didn't even bother. There is something sacred to the three of them about being in nature together, just the boys. As I write, a driving rain has started....it looks like they're in for an interesting night! And as for me, after getting all this out into the blogosphere, I feel ready to relax and enjoy what I've just realized will be my very last father-son camp out all by myself. Wow.