The week I left my baby

So, I left my child to go off on a jolly. I dumped my 16 month old daughter on her grandparents so I could indulge in some mature adult fun with her father…

Seriously though.

With a heavy heart I tore myself away from Frog and waved goodbye to my parents to spend a few days in Lymington on a sort of “mini-moon” with the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine. Although I accepted we needed some time together that didn’t revolve around our beautiful daughter, I was a bit unsure about leaving her for five whole nights away.

But it was worth it.

While Frog went to the park ten times a day with her exhausted grandma, myself and her father went for walks by the sea…

Drank plenty of alcohol…

Hired bikes (before the alcohol consumption, I hasten to add)…

And generally enjoyed pretending to be mushy newly weds, who never argue over dirty nappies or whose turn it is to put out the bins…

And then Frog turned up.

So we ate fish and chips at the quayside…

Did some more cycling…

Which was clearly very taxing…

And went to the pub for lunch…

It was a brilliant week and over far too soon. And to those of you who told me not to feel guilty about leaving my child to go on holiday? Thank you. You were right.