Alone. Alone alone alone. Alone.

So, my husband just packed the kids up in the car and left for Pensacola without me.

You know, that sounds a little dire. Let me rephrase.

My husband just packed the kids up in the car and left to visit his parents in Pensacola without me. (He is coming back.) I suspect it's because I've been being such a pill about getting my work done and meeting my Oct. 1st Intrigue deadline (SHRIEK!), he wanted to give me some alone time to get some stuff done without having to worry that I'm the Worst. Mother. Evah. while I neglect my kids for the computer. Actually, he probably just wanted to get away from the stellar and prolonged impression I've been doing lately of a fishwife. (In my defense, I do not buy that men suddenly forget how to vacuum once they get married, nor that I should always do it because I'm "better at it." How hard is it to shove a vacuum about the carpet for a few minutes? Really? Did the priest eat your brain during the wedding ceremony when I wasn't looking? Because if not, it's time you and Mr. Kenmore got better acquainted, dude. That is, if you ever want to see your non-fishwife wife again.)

So I should be loving life right now. I've got a clean house (not a plastic Dora doll or Peek-a-Block in sight!), a refrigerator full of Diet Coke, the Schwan's man came yesterday to replenish my supply of Chocolate Peanut Butter Passion ice cream, and I have the entire weekend to write. I have complete and utter silence. I can sleep in. I have copies of Match Point and Take the Lead waiting for me to meet my daily goals so I can relax in front of the DVD player in the evening as a goal reward. And I just revamped the first chapter of the Book Formerly Known as Renegade Ridge (that's a whole other blog entry), and it's not bad.

Am I loving life? Yes and no.

This is the first time since Marin was born nine months ago that I've had not just one full day, but two and a half full days all my own. I'm not at a conference. I'm not in DC visiting my workplace. I can decide what to do with every single minute of the next two and a half days until they come back Monday afternoon. Bliss.

But I miss them. At the risk of sounding sappy, my arms feel empty. I want to take Maggie to the pool, and I want to see Marin walk some more (she's been tooling around like a pro for about two days now). I want to put in that baby sign language DVD and see if we can learn something. I want to go to the bookstore and replace Maggie's Disney Princess Sticker Book (because even though the book says the stickers are reusable, they're LIES, all LIES).

This is idiotic. I need to enjoy these two days (and a half), because who knows when I'll be able to have time to myself like this again? So here I go. I'm enjoying myself. Yes, I am. Relaxing, having a glass of wine, and writing up a storm. Yep, that's me.

I miss my kids. (And Jose, even if he doesn't vacuum.)