Two nonstop flights to guilt please

Honey Mustard and I leave for Las Vegas tomorrow without the The Peanut Butter & The Jelly.

That’s right, just the two of us… and we’re positively giddy about the idea.

Now don’t get us wrong, we absolutely, unequivocally, unconditionally love our children, but… come on… anyone with kids knows exactly what I’m talking about.

However, there is one problem…

In The PB and The J’s 4 ¾ on this planet (and NOT counting the nights they were in the NICU since we were next door at the Ronald McDonald House) we’ve been apart from them, overnight, for a grand total of two times…

You read that right… two times.

Once, a year and two months after they were born when my Uncle Nishan (who I am named for and who was always like a grandfather to me) passed away.

The second time was two years ago when we decided to have some salvation for an evening and stayed the night at Hotel 71 in Chicago, had dinner at Miller’s Pub, drank too much with friends of ours at the Congress Hotel Bar (which is THE BEST dive bar in Chicago btw), and had Sunday Brunch at The Signature Room atop the John Hancock building…

And that’s it.

So here we are… on the cusp of multiple nights away from our little demoñios angels… and HoMu and I are more than a little nervous.

The girls?They’re excited… no, scratch that… they’re thrilled... after all, they get to spend two nights with HoMu’s parents, then two nights with my parents.

Four nights of spoiling… four nights of being given money from Abuelo (my Dad)… four nights of being the center of attention from their Gama (HoMu’s Mom, whom they usually have to share with six other grandchildren)…

It’s enough to make them push us out the door two days early.

...

… but it’s also enough to make HoMu and I a little worried.

But, we’ll muddle through somehow.