As much as I now abhor Mel Gibson, that primal roar he delivered in “Braveheart” will always be a classic. And it’s echoing in my head now, as I finish packing up for a long overdue, romantical weekend with The Hubs, sans kiddos.

WWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, yeah, I’m kinda excited. We aren’t going far, or anywhere particularly glamourous and it’s supposed to rain, but dammit, we’re going and we’re going together and we’re not taking the kids. I don’t care if we stay in the damn Motel6, as long as I get to sleep as long as I want and snuggle the Hubs without a kid between us and eat a meal that doesn’t come in a paper bag. I don’t ask for much, people. It don’t take a whole lot to put a smile on my face. So, yeah, I’m smiling.

It’s a particularly lucky break that we’re going THIS weekend, as this is the opening weekend for Little League in our town. This involved getting the kids to a freezing parking lot by 8am on a Saturday, decorating some poor schlub’s pickup truck with balloons and streamers and whatever more creative people than I come up with, and then racing to the baseball field across town to watch all the kids riding in the back of the pickups arrive with horns blaring and cameras flashing. Then there’s a (way too) long ceremony with the Pledge of Allegiance and the National Anthem and a bunch of speeches, which is always the worst part for me, since 1. I usually can’t hear from whatever random place I’m standing and 2. when they do the anthem, they make the kids take their baseball hats off and my poor David has to stand there all bald and nekkie in front of everyone and I’m not allowed to run down there an beat anyone up for laughing. Following the formalities, there is a “carnival” that consists of a bouncy slide and a raffle and the indescribable joy of wrangling 500 boys for team pictures. I can’t tell you how sorry I am to be missing all that “fun”.

I feel a little twinge of guilt, knowing that I’m sending my dad into the fray for me this weekend, but hey, he picked the weekend, not me. I’m just getting the hell outa Dodge while the getting’s good. Anyway, between my dad, my stepmom, my 21-year-old niece and my brother, I’m sure they’ll be able to handle things. And I’ll honestly be a little (teeny) bit sad to miss the cute photo ops.

But, then I remember: FREEDOM!

So, I’m gonna go finish packing up. I’ll see y’all on the flip side! I’ll be that really relaxed person that you don’t recognize.