Girls Gone Mellow

There’s nothing quite like a weekend away from it all…

The piece below about my recent weekend away with the girls, ran today on

“So what time should we go?”

“Mummy, look at my tower!”

“Hmm…Anything later than three and we’ll get screwed by cottage traffic.”

“MUMMY!  I saaaaiiiiiiddddd look at my tower!”

“Okay – don’t forget, we need to stop to get more wine.”


Sigh.  The countdown begins.  Standing amidst the mess of a half packed cooler and an overflowing bag of ‘essentials’ (read:  minimum of twelve nail polishes, three pairs of flip flops and a pile of lulus), I close my eyes and picture myself a few hours later, comfortably settled into a gorgeous cottage, an already-thumbed-through gossip mag and a glass of wine in hand, just cuz why not.

It’s one of the most important relationships you’ll have in this lifetime – the relationship with yourself.  And I don’t know about you, but one of the ways I make sure I stay me, is time away from it all with the girls.  So, with hard-core me-time in mind, my weekend with the ladies begins – what did you think, I was taking the kids? God, no!

This is serious business.  We only have two and a half days to cram in the past year’s unfinished phone conversations, pounds (and pounds) of delicious gossip – not to mention chocolate – inevitable giggles, soulful talks (some with, some without tears), rowdy poker tournaments (you bet your ass we play Poker), rowdier Mah Jong games (no, we’re not 90) and serious relaxation – lying on a dock without worrying that our toddlers are drowning or eating sand, and reading actual books that don’t rhyme.  Like I said – serious business.

It’s a good thing we’re women.  We’re all about efficiency.  In a twenty minute span, while most men would still be looking for socks that match, we can effortlessly cover off topics ranging from when the best time is to sneak in sex (apparently right after the kids go to bed, so you still have time to watch The Bachelorette before bed – who knew?) to the ongoing mystery of polenta – is it a starch?  A side dish?   I just don’t get it!

And before we know it, the weekend is done.  Beds are made, the kitchen is cleaned to spotless perfection, leftovers are divided, magazines are traded, blackberries are charged and the cars are packed up.  Again – we’re women.  We get shit done. 

Freshly polished toes rest on a caravan of dashboards and we head home to what is surely a complete mess, an empty fridge, and an exhausted spouse ready to hand over sticky children.  As I pull into the driveway and unload my bags dreaming of next year’s girl’s getaway, a perfect little mess of shaggy curls pops his head out the front door and runs to greet me, his gorgeous blue eyes shining brightly as he throws himself into my hug. 

“Mummy, I missed you so much!!!  I made you a tower – come see!!! Come see!!! 

Man, I missed those kids.


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