Last weekend, Justin and I were able to get away and be by ourselves for 51 blissful hours.  No house.  No cats.  No Robbie.  And it was perfect.  It was a little strange, too.  What do you do when there are no chores to do?  No child to entertain and put to bed?

You go on a bike ride for two hours and see all of historical Nantucket (including – to my pure delight – “The Shoe” where the Gilbreths from Cheaper by the Dozen vacationed).  You linger over lunch.  You see the movie you’ve been counting down the days for (Hunger Games was fabulous, by the way, even in the tiny, single theatre).  You visit a local brewery, ecstatic when your husband brings back the third tasting “sample”, which is actually a full-size beer.  You have a late dinner and don’t worry about how much you are going to owe the baby sitter (and enjoy the free desserts you get because your dinner took so long to prepare).  You go into shops with breakable things and clothes that you actually want to try on.  And, what the hell, you try them on because there’s no one to wail in the dressing room.

It was the perfect weekend, and the first time that Justin and I have been alone for more than a few hours since our anniversary.  With everything that’s happened in the past four months, we were in desperate need of some time just for us.  Some time to reconnect without work, family, or chores demanding our time.  Some time to just be in love with each other.