I remember the first night I let my newborn baby stay with his grandparents.

Disclaimer: Of course I have to start this with a disclaimer because people can be very judgmental. I love my children more than life itself. I would take a bullet for them. But they also annoy me a bit from time to time and I treasure my alone time. So there.

Anywho, when my now five-year old, Henry, was about two weeks fresh out of the uterus, I was given a wonderful gift from a friend. They were VIP tickets to go see Old Crow Medicine Show at ROMP – a bluegrass festival that I love – in the town where I live.

At first, I was like no, I shouldn’t do it. I still looked like I was pregnant and I was nursing and I came up with about seven million other excuses.

Then I realized that moms are allowed to have fun too and I had spent the last two weeks with a baby on my boob. And before that, I had spent ten months growing that baby and being swollen and sweaty.

So, my husband and I decided we were going to go for it. We LOVE Old Crow and how can you pass that up?

At first, I considered just taking the baby with us, but it was the middle of July and the concert started at 8 pm. Not the best place for a newborn.

So, for the first time in my life, I called upon the trusty grandparents. Heaven sent, I tell you.

They were more than excited to watch our freshly baked newborn for approximately three hours, because I couldn’t go any longer than that without my boobs busting a leak that would poke someone’s eye out.  

I remember that when we dropped him off, I cried a little. I had a list of instructions that was about a mile long. I think I had everything timed to the second. Like my mother-in-law had never raised children or watched a baby.

After me giving her twenty minutes of instructions, my husband reminded me that if I kept this up, we would miss the concert.

I left, with tears welling up in my eyes. I felt super frumpy in my maxi dress, trying to hide the still there baby bump that made me look like I just ate fourteen burritos.

Then the music started and I was so happy. I just listened and looked up at the stars in the sky and felt like a normal person enjoying a great time again.

The concert ended and we rushed back to pick up Henry. He was perfectly fine, of course, but I still cried because I thought he looked bigger than when we left him.

OMG, new mom hormones are ragers.

Nowadays, I drop the kids off and practically make them tuck and roll out of the car. I throw a quickly packed bag out the window at them and yell, “See ya later!” while driving off into the sunset bumping music with cuss words.

Okay, so I’m not that bad, but it’s probably pretty close.

The grandparents have an array of clothing, diapers, and other things at their houses, so I really don’t need to pack more than the kids themselves and good ol’ Sleepy Bear.

I always walk them inside, give them hugs and kisses goodbye, make sure someone knows they are there, and THEN screech off in my car, bumping to any song that has cuss words in it.

I usually go straight back home and spend about fifteen minutes soaking up the silence of silence. Because that only comes around so often.

The best moments are times that I am not expecting the children to be staying with grandparents, but receiving a call or text that they would love to see them AND keep them overnight.

I can get the boys packed, in the car and their car seats, to the grandparents’ house and back out the driveway bumping to my 90’s rap music in under ten minutes. Sometimes, I drop them off before I even get off the phone with them.

Okay not really, but close.

My how times have changed. Thank you to the grandparents that love my babies so much. Feed them all the sugar you want! I’m going to watch Netflix and eat ice cream out of the tub on the couch.

Until Next Time,