My One and Only

I weighted down her lunchbox with two water bottles, to make sure she wasn’t suspicious.

She got to the lunchroom and opened her lunchbox with her usual aplomb, and her face fell, noticing the absence of food inside. There were just the two water bottles, and a letter.

Dear Grace,

You probably think I forgot your lunch, just like you probably think I forgot that you haven’t had your alone weekend with Mommy yet. Well, I didn’t forget. Not either one. We can grab some lunch on our way out of town! It’s your turn, sweetheart! Surprise! Your teacher knows and everything is packed. I am hiding outside in the hallway, waiting for you. Come and give me a hug if you are ready to go.

I love you and can’t wait to spend time with you,

Mommy

I spied on her from out in the hallway, along with her twin sister Bella who has already taken a trip with me to Chicago a few years ago. I watched as her teacher helped her with the letter and her first grade classmates surrounded her, wondering what the fuss was all about. I turned to say something to Bella, and I was tackled at full speed by Grace, slamming into me with the exuberance of her hug. Apparently, she was ready to go.

The car was packed with our suitcase and the backseat was comfy with pillows, books, snacks, drinks, and her favorite blanket. We had lunch together and she talked non-stop, could barely control herself enough to stay in her chair at the restaurant, so happy not to have to share my attention with her brother and sister. Within five minutes of being back in the car, she was fast asleep and she slept the entire drive to San Antonio. I booked a hotel room for us on the River Walk, someplace with a swimming pool and within walking distance of everything. We checked in and were in our rooms long enough to put on swimsuits and sunscreen and we hit the pool. We swam and played dolphin games until our fingers pruned, and then we wrapped ourselves in towels and snuggled on the same lounge chair with a map so we could figure out where we were headed next. A quick change of clothes upstairs and we were on our way, wandering the River Walk, stopping in stores and for photo opps at the Rain Forest Café, her dimpled face pretending to scream next to the fake tiger and alligator. We made our way to the Alamo, and Grace was confused because she thought we could see a movie there. I had to explain that this was not another Alamo Drafthouse theater. I did my best to explain the historical significance of the Alamo in five minutes or less and then we snapped the obligatory photograph out front and we were off to the wax museum (which we skipped after we saw a corpse-like rendition of Lance in the front window, “That does not look like my Daddy.”), Ripley’s Haunted House (way too creepy, never again)and the Guinness Book of World Records Museum.

It was after five on the way home and Grace was of course, starving, since our family eats on a geriatric timetable. (I can’t believe I ever lived in Spain and ate dinner at 10pm, that girl is long gone, or at least on a significant hiatus.) We had dinner outside at an Italian restaurant on the River Walk, and clinked our glasses of Shirley Temple and Pinot Noir together in a toast to “girl time.” After dinner we hit CVS drugstore for Junior Mints, Cheetos and Red Vines before we returned to our hotel room for movie night. After our bath we put on pajamas and crawled into bed, puffing the pillows behind us, Grace locating her blanket and finding her special snuggle spot between the crook of my arm and my shoulder. Her little leg looped over mine as we talked and laughed and watched our flick. Sometime later she grew quiet and her breathing lengthened and evened out, telltale signs of a small person fast asleep. I carefully extricated my arm from beneath her, and settled her in on her side. I flattened out my pillows and reached to switch off the light when I felt paper crinkle underneath my pillow. It was a note, written in “lovely club” handwriting on the Omni notepad, sometime when I wasn’t looking.

Dear MOM, I’m so happy we could do it. I love you with all my (heart). Love, G

I sat there, staring into the quiet hotel room with Grace snoozing beside me, and tears ran down my face. How often do I “miss” her? Miss moments like this? Miss pieces of her personality and her heart in my rush to make things happen and get things done? For all the tasks, errands, homework help and chauffeuring involved in mothering, all the things that can go unseen and unnoticed unless left undone, moments like this, opportunities to love a child one on one are absolutely priceless. I made a promise to myself and to my children before I turned out the light, spooned Grace and fell immediately to sleep. I won’t go so long between alone adventures ever again. I will incorporate surprise and special time into the rhythms of our regular life. Because when they grow up and I grow old, I know I won’t remember the to-dos and neither will they. But they will remember that I sought their good company, over and over and over again. They will remember that I made the time and the space to enjoy and understand them separately, in addition to the together time where I appreciate them in the context of our family.

Everyone deserves to feel like the one and only, once in a while.