Letting Go
This past weekend was a first. Alex and I (by the sheer generosity of my parents) packed up and flew to Chicago to stay at the Sofitel to celebrate my upcoming birthday, our fourth wedding anniversary, my good friend, Heather Crosby’s YumUniverse book release, and one of my best friend’s, Jenny’s, 40th birthday party.
It was an action-packed 48 hours, and we did it quietly, not alerting any of our friends that we were coming in so we could actually focus on each other.
This was Alex’s first time being away from Sophie, and only my second. As we hoisted our bag into the car, I felt selfish; guilty. What was I doing taking time for myself when I had a little daughter who depended on me? On us? What if we plummeted to our death and left her parentless?
As my father took Sophie to school for the first time and my mother drove us to the airport, she reassured me that we needed this–that I needed this. “Enjoy every moment,” she said. “Sophie will be great. Stay present.”
And that we did. Every time I go back to Chicago, I get sucked in. The familiar smells of the el, the hot blasts of air that drift, pungent like hot dogs and dirt, from the grates into the air; the never-ending construction that all fades into the cacophony of traffic horns and city sounds; the paved streets, some pristine, others filled with grit; the icy blast of the November wind; the perfectly executed buildings, linear, clear, and definitively rocketing up into the sky; the ability–finally–to pull a scarf a little tighter and to revel in giant, thick, black cups of coffee and good Chicago food that we crave almost daily.
We checked into Sofitel (AKA the best hotel in the world) and ventured off to Tempo, our old standby, and then into Barnes and Noble, a weekend tradition when we lived here. Being kid-free meant I got to peruse freely. I gathered up seven novels in my arms and took them over to a chair to read the first few pages of each. I allowed myself just one. Liane Moriarty, a new find for me, was just what I was in the mood for. Good writing, a little mystery, and plenty of twists and turns to keep me entertained.
Our trip unfolded in layers: food (always food), relaxation, “adult” time, reading, miles of walking, socializing at our two friends’ massive events, more food, more walking, shopping, more relaxation, and a slight view into what our lives once were when we first started dating almost five years ago.
As we woke without an alarm, ate a delicious breakfast and ducked into store after store, ransacking clothes and bins, I thought, “Is this what people do on the weekends?” My weekends are structured: workout, breakfast for the family, playground, lunch, nap time for Sophie, a post-nap activity, dinner, and bed time for the little one. It rarely differs, and when and if it does, I always welcome the change.
But I didn’t realize how much I needed to just let go. Alex and I were allowed to be spontaneous–to be free.
Our daughter, though she didn’t sleep much while we were gone, coped beautifully (and even got some new bangs, which make her look like a damn teenager. What a beauty.). We paid for her fatigue when we got home in the form of a toddler’s wrath, but we came home more refreshed and ready to tackle our days (and her mood swings).
But one thing is clear: We miss Chicago. It is our home and will always feel that way. But for now, for this moment, we are committed to our lives in Nashville–to do what’s best for our daughter.
And as it so often happens in motherhood as one weekend leaks into the next and the running joke to other mothers is, “What do you have planned this weekend?” to which we look at each other and just laugh and laugh, at least I can say today that we had a truly unforgettable weekend.
One that I will cherish for quite some time.
