The baby was just fine all by himself. Or rather, with my mother. He went to sleep happily and willingly, stirred and needed covers at 5am, and then the next thing she knew it was almost 7:30am and he had gotten himself up, gone to the bathroom, turned on the light and sat himself down for his morning routine.
They went to the beach, she taught him all about owls, and ate some nice food together. He barely noticed I was gone; when I called last night before we went out to dinner, the only thing he had to say to me was "Bye mom!"
And don't get me wrong, he was glad to see me when I got home, but he clearly found the separation much, much easier than I did.
Such is the reality of motherhood.
* * * * * * * *
Despite missing my child, we had a lovely time out. We left the house around 3pm, went to the tea store and the bookstore, found a new book. We then went to the hotel, and relaxed for a short while. I took a bath in the big bathtub. We went out for a lovely, lovely dinner at a downtown restaurant, where I had prawns and arugula salad, and then steak and asparagus which was beautifully cooked, and chocolate mousse with raspberry and sour cherry for dessert. And then we went out for a nice brunch this morning where I had a delightful cobb salad. And tea. Beautiful tea.
The one thing about having a new found food intolerance is that eating in high end restaurants is actually quite easy. They make each meal as you order it, and they make all the food there, so they know exactly what is in it. The staff is very attentive, and they are cautious with food preferences and tolerances, and are inordinately careful about it.
So really the fact is that I've now just been sentenced to eating in very nice restaurants for the rest of my life, which is a terrible hardship, of course. If my bank account can keep up, I know I will enjoy it.
Of course, no matter how careful they are, brunch still kind of sucks without gluten. Sigh.
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