My six-year-old son, Austin, stood at the door and cried, "Mommy, don't go!" as I placed a small overnight bag in the car. My husband, Mark, had just called me from an out of town trip and asked me to join him for a 24-hour overnight getaway in Chicago before returning home.
I'd struggled making the mental adjustment. Mark had called me on my cell phone while I was waiting in the carpool line at our older son's high school.
"What are you doing?" Mark asked, calling from the Phoenix airport.
"I'm waiting to pick up Evan." I responded.
"Are you feeling spontaneous?"
"Not particularly," I answered, finishing with, "What are you up to?"
"Meet me in Chicago," Mark said. "Drive up there tonight, and let's take some time for just the two of us."
"You're crazy," I told him, frustrated that he'd just put me in the position of making a decision that was sure to disappoint someone. I'd have to leave within two hours to make Mark's plan work, first finding a sitter, getting the kids' school items together for the next morning, and packing a bag for me. It was a two-hour drive to Chicago from our central Illinois home—not exactly something I was looking forward to doing alone.