If you happen to be in the bay area this weekend, you might see me climbing up out of the car to surf on the roof, a la Teen Wolf.

Or maybe I’ll be reclining on the beach somewhere, reading a book.

Whatever I’m doing, I will be SLEEPING IN. Husband, too, so I won’t even have to feel guilty about sleeping in!

Yes, our daughter just turned three, and this is our first weekend alone together. We’ve had some dates, and I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, but I think I can count them on my fingers and toes. So this, a whole weekend?! Two nights?! I can barely stand it.

I thought, surely, we are the last of the parents with kids Z’s age to embark on the Big Weekend Away. However, Husband has shared with me tales of parents with six-year-olds and eight-year-olds who still haven’t escaped. If I had one word of advice for those parents, it would be this: Run. Okay, actually, it would be Plan. And have a sucker grandparent nearby to take over. Even the simple act of planning this (and believe me, our planning hasn’t gone very far – we’ve reserved a room and that’s it) has done wonders for my morale.

Some other day I will have to post about my blatant and joyful misuse and overuse of parentheses.

Right now I wanna get on the road.