A number that calls for more than the usual ice cream cake after dinner with the kids.
No doubt JB is feeling the need to make it memorable.
He's been throwing out hypothetical scenarios.
M and R are going to Alaska for their anniversary, he tells me while we're driving in the minivan, without their kids.
He waits for my reaction.
Let me state for the record: I am not a mommy-martyr. I adore a night or two away without the kids. Multi-course meals, uninterrupted conversation, long baths, late nights, lazy mornings.
But getting on an airplane without them is not going to happen.
My parents took us everywhere. If there were faraway places they wanted to see, they brought us with them. If they fancied a day at the beach just outside of town, we all grabbed our suits. I appreciated those trips as a child, and appreciate them even more now that I'm a parent.
There are logistical reasons I prefer not leave them, too. We are a bigger family. We have kids that range in age, and have very different needs. We do a lot of after-school activities.
Oh, and I struggle with leaving them.
Call it a personality tic, if you will.
Because I know there is absolutely nothing wrong with parents taking a trip without their kids.
Actually, I'm sort of envious of parents that can.
JB knows this about me.
We're supposed to keep each other from getting stuck, falling into ruts, being afraid.
And so he continues to throw out the idea of a last minute vacation, wondering when my answer might change.
I'm not going anywhere that far away without the kids, I told him in the minivan.
He responded with a knowing nod.
We both know our next trip won't happen before my milestone birthday, because we can't go until it works for our whole family. And I can't wait until it does.
I can't pretend to be braver than I am.
He knows that about me, too.
This post was brought to you by Club Med, who offer fabulous last-minute Canadian travel deals.
The story is my own.