I'm not used to this.
Usually when someone is being talked
into something, I am the one doing the talking. But now, all of a
sudden, the tables are turned and I'm going to Vegas.
I didn't
want to go to Vegas. I didn't want to leave Zev for two days and three
nights. I've been telling Keren as much since October. But somehow, I'm
sitting here, at my computer, with Keren on the phone, watching little
white dots dance on my screen as Orbitz.com processes my order for two
round-trip tickets.
The little logo below the dancing dots says, "Your trip, your choice."
I read this to Keren and say, "Hear that? It doesn't say, 'Your trip, against your will.' "
"Come on," she says. "It will be fun."
She's
probably right. But I still have pangs of guilt and longing just
thinking about leaving Zev for the weekend. The only time I have ever
been apart from him for that long was after he was born and an
ambulance rushed my ailing baby to Children's Hospital of Orange
County. Doctors wanted to keep me in the hospital for four days, but
the stakes were too high: I talked them into letting me out in two.
And
now I've been talked into spending two days without him. Sure, it will
be nice to stay in bed for a few extra minutes every morning without
hearing, "Mamma! HOLD! Mamma! PICKIE UP!" But I am going to miss him
like mad.
"Can you tell me again how we got to this point? How did you get me to go to Vegas?"
She laid on her Israeli accent super thick and said, "I have powers."
I
don't know much about poker, but I know that if you bluff and confuse
your opponents well enough, you'll likely win. Keren knows a lot about
poker. She plays every week and usually cleans up. So I guess I should
have known all along that I was going to fold.
Still, I thought
I was playing a good hand back in October when I ducked behind my milk
ducts, telling her I couldn't leave Zev because I was still nursing.
Then came a series of colds. Some family trips. A few work-related
delays. I started to think the whole thing was going to fade away. But
it didn't.
She lobbied hard: It'll be a good bonding experience
for Zev and Hubby. I can get a massage, go to the spa. I need a break,
a chance to remember what it was like to have zero responsibilities.
Besides, she said, a girls' weekend would be fun.
She had me
there. I haven't had a girls' weekend – or even, really, a girls' night
– in a long, long time. Zev gives me so much love and life and purpose.
But he can't give me the latest gossip or help me pick out shoes.
Girlfriends
are essential, the people you can retreat to when toddlers (or
husbands) throw temper tantrums and life stops making sense. I should
be more grateful that there is someone in my life who would want to
spend a weekend in Vegas with me.
Besides, Keren's a good girl.
A mom like me. It's not like she's going to get us arrested or dance on
the bar until dawn. It'll be a nice, mellow weekend.
By the time those little white dots finish their dance and complete my plane-ticket order, I decide I'm all in.
"OK.
Good," she says, and I can hear her smile on the other end of the
phone. "I'll call you tomorrow, and we'll get tickets to 'Thunder From
Down Under.' "
Oh, dear.
Hi Mayrav! I just stumbled upon your very funny and very great blog! Just wanted to say hi. E-mail me at my yahoo ... I need to fill you in on something.
ReplyDeleteMeantime: Thunder From Down Under, eh? How much are those Orbitz tix going for? I'm tempted... Deb