When you have a toddler, the force required for a night away is roughly equal to the escape velocity needed to exit the earth's atmosphere. In other words, a baby free vacation is about as likely as flying to the moon. And yet, by the time you read this I will be on a plane en route to New York with a friend for a good old fashioned girl's weekend. Just typing those words makes me feel like I might pee on myself accidentally -- like a kid on Christmas -- because the excitement is TOO MUCH. But I'm also more than a little sad. I hope Ben remembers to feed Ike. And squeeze his chubby little legs for me. And smell his pretty hair.

Thankfully I don't really have time to worry too much about that, because I am busy packing and yelping and trying to figure out how to enjoy New York without looking like a total douchewad tourist.