Jealous

Sometimes, I think the moms should be the one to take the business trips.

No really, hear me out.

We'd come home and announce that we were leaving in two days. We'd take the nice company-owned truck and drive for five peaceful hours. We would listen to the satellite radio, catch up with family and friends, and not once would we have to pull over because of out of control screaming, an emergency potty break, or to rescue a thrown sippy cup.

We'd stop for a leisurely lunch, then arrive at our nice hotel rested and refreshed. We'd call home and let our husbands know that we'd arrived safely, and secretly gloat when we talked with our flustered husbands while the kids hollered in the background.

Then, we'd kick back on the king-sized bed, and order room service while flipping through cable channels. After watching a movie completely uninterrupted, we'd fall asleep and sleep all night. No one would wake us up by climbing on us, kicking us in the ribs, nursing all night long, puking, pooping, or drooling on us.

When we woke up the next morning, we'd have all the time in the world to get ready. We wouldn't have to pack lunches, change the epic poop explosion, help the seven year old practice the violin, veto non-matching/inappropriate/immodest outfits, or find four missing shoes. Instead, we'd enjoy a hot breakfast made by someone else, and read the current day's paper cover to cover.

On this fantasy business trip, we'd then spend a whole day cavorting with other moms. We would enjoy seminars entitled "How to look like you just stepped out of a fashion magazine with just the clothes in your closet," and "How to lose weight on a diet of Diet Coke with Lime and chocolate chips," and "Hiring the perfect housecleaner/chauffeur/personal chef." Gossiping over the catered lunch would be considered networking, and the fun would continue over dinner at a fancy restaurant that our family budget could never afford.

I might be just a little jealous.