This past weekend I stole away for a girls weekend with seven of my dearest girlfriends to Savannah, Georgia. It’s the third “girls weekend” I’ve ever been on, the first one with these amazing ladies– some of my dearest friends in the area.
I’m still amazed we were able to pull it off. Every single one of us is working (most of us full time). Every single one of us has children, and two of us are in school. It’s a miracle eight women could find the time to pile into a minivan van, let alone drive 4.5 hours away for a weekend away from our work/families.
But I suspect something else was at work here– a collective shedding of guilt as we near or surpass our 40th birthdays. For the most part, we did not call home to check on the kids (“they’re fine”). We did not worry about what they would eat (“they’ll figure it out”). We did not think about what all we needed to do to prepare for the upcoming week of work/school/kids (“we’ll deal with the drudgeries when we return home Sunday night”). We’ve matured to a point, it seems, where our lives aren’t constantly plagued with guilt for what we are or are not doing for our kids.
We are gradually realizing that the how/when/what of taking care of our families, in the long run, really doesn’t matter all that much.
I suppose, too, it’s a liberating feeling when sometimes the smartest decisions we make in our lives, are also the most selfish ones.
I can’t wait to go again next year.