It seems that it will be a mom-free weekend. Starting tomorrow morning through Sunday it will be just me, Cricket, and Grasshopper fending for ourselves. I’m not actually particularly concerned. I’m not one of those passive working dad’s who defers the majority of parenting to the matron of the house. I even cook sometimes (mostly on the grill, but not exclusively). So I’m sure we will survive …. hopefully.
My wife will be departing early tomorrow morning on a trek to NYC for a blogging conference (in case you weren’t aware, she has not one, but two blogs that she likely updates more often than I do: Down to Earth Mama and She Acts). She will be whooping it up in the Big Apple for the weekend with blog-related discussions and parties. Not that I would worry for the sanctity of our marriage regardless of the nature of the conference, but being that she will be surrounded mostly by female bloggers, the most that will likely happen is some all-girl drunken music videography (it’s happened). I guess there is a sliver of the possibility she might get swept into an overzealous celebration of the repeal of Prop. 8, but I’m not overly concerned. What hyjinx will ensue are likely to be of a much more tame and innocent variety of which she greatly deserves.
Anyway, besides regularly scheduled events of the weekend (of which there are surprisingly many) I have very little in mind for our sans matronus weekend. As it stands, I have to take them to swimming lessons, the farmer’s market, a family reunion, and potentially a free movie screening (and probably some other events that my wife will point out that I forgot to mention and therefore will not remember to do). So outside of meals there is limited bandwidth for other events. But I may try to fit in some shopping and some other entertainment where I can – perhaps even some fruit picking if time and weather permit.
My biggest concern is that I’m going to be plagued with work issues that try to follow me home. I’m slowly working to have more redundancy and less direct dependency for certain things, but the curse of being good at certain things is that you are the only one who can handle them – I’m not playing arrogant here, it is simple fact. But I’m training a new guy to be the next me, and trying to leave no issues up in the air so that I can make the most of a wife-free and hopefully work-free weekend.