Gathered around for dinner one evening my in-laws, husband and I were, as always, already discussing what we would be having for dinner the next night (not unusual for this shameless, foodie foursome) when the conversation segued to my husband’s recollection of an unforgettable hummus that they had stumbled upon during a stay in Atlantic City years ago.

“Why wasn’t I there?” I questioned.

“You didn’t want to go.” My husband quickly responded.

I sat there, stunned for a second, wondering how that was even remotely possible.  We were talking about AC, for goodness sake, and there’s nothing I enjoy more than great food and the occasional tug on a slot machine (yes, I am old enough to remember actually pulling the handle of a tried and true, old school slot machine).

Then it dawns on me.  That was a trip planned for my mother in law, Jennifer’s, birthday.  Now it was all coming back to me.  Jason and I are the parents of two little boys, who, at that time, were probably three and four years old.  Finding a reliable sitter is hard enough without having to find one willing to spend an overnight with an immobile child who has cerebral palsy and a hyperactive four year old with an autism diagnosis.  My mother in law had always been our savior when it came to grabbing a couple hours of alone time, and on a few glorious occasions, a most appreciated night or two away.

But this time it was her birthday and my husband had scored tickets to a concert that Jennifer had always wanted to see.

Everyone began throwing out ideas of how we could find someone to watch the dogs, get an extra room for the kids, hire an aide to come with us, pull them out of pre-school…

I saw the writing on the wall.  I knew that Jett would be bouncing off the walls, trying to escape the room to go on ‘treasure hunts’ and freaking out that the IPod had gone missing while Dane cried incessantly because his favorite shows weren’t instantly accessible on a non-existant hotel DVR.  The room service menu wouldn’t have the dull, brown, chicken nuggets, in the right size and shape that had become Jett’s only source of protein and Dane would be annoyed that Jett was annoyed.

So yes, I’ll admit, I didn’t want to go – UNDER THOSE CIRCUMSTANCES but for the record, and let me make myself very clear, I did want to go.  Sometimes it’s your turn and sometimes it’s not.  This is what having kids is all about, special needs or not.

And when my family returned I heard stories of a wonderful time, which I feel quite certain was made more wonderful by not having to worry about the carnage back in the hotel room or having to pay a rock star destruction tab at check-out.  But, have no fear, my rock star days are not over yet and when the time is right I most certainly will, and want, to go!