Fleeing the Nest

Times are tough when you can’t leave the house for a few days without worrying about the ferals at home. But that’s what happens when the beloveds grow up a bit and you hit the tricky period when kids deem themselves too old to be left with a babysitter, but are not necessarily wise enough to understand the ramifications of parent free gatherings. Teenagers don’t give a toss when it comes to parental sanity or a peaceful relationship with elderly neighbours.


This challenge comes to visit sometime between ages 16 to 18. The one currently in residence is a recent high school graduate. She is watching my back. When I leave the house she asks what time I’m coming home. When I express a desire to leave the city for a day or two, she lights up. She becomes effusive and her normal grunts transform into exquisite soliloquy. She expounds the joys of rural life and all the reasons why her blessed mother deserves a break in the country.

She scurries upstairs and returns with the perfect overnight bag for me. She is last seen walking at a pace to her room. The door slams, and the phone calls start. Animated tone, excitement rising. She is planning a shindig.

I have cabin fever and decide to disappear for the weekend without the teenagers noticing. I resent the need for subterfuge, but it's my only solution.

I pack on Friday afternoon, when it’s all quiet on the home front. I leave the bag she recommended in full view. My toiletries sit right where they belong and I buy replicas at the cut price chemist down the road. The car is parked around the corner. They think it has gone for a service.

I sneak out late Friday night when they are out and leave a note outlining my morning plans. By the time I completed my activities as per said note - a walk, a coffee, the supermarket and a visit to my parents, they will be falling out of bed wondering what is on the menu for lunch.

I send a mid afternoon text to advise I am seeing a film and dining with friends.

Next day I text them again. I am at lunch with friends. The fridge is well stocked; they won’t worry.

On Sunday afternoon as I motor down the freeway I decide on take away for dinner. After all, I couldn’t bear to cook after lunching all day, and I am predicting their culinary skills will be absent, as usual.

Call me negligent. So much could have gone wrong.

I had a great weekend. I’m plotting another one soon.