But who’s counting, right?
Tomorrow at one, I will be boarding a plane to Calgary. I’m off on a business trip, to take a 3-day course related to my job. I’m off fill my head with knowledge, to sleep in a hotel without being woken to breastfeed, to eat food that someone else makes, to visit with a dear friend I haven’t seen in years, to maybe even fit in some minor Chinatown shopping or a haircut.
I’m excited about the course (which I’ve heard is fantastic) and I’m excited about the trip.
But, oh, how I will miss my family!
I’ve never been away from Halia overnight before — not even one overnight, and now I’ll suddenly be gone for three.
Until I started back at work, I’d never been away from Halia for more than three or four hours. At that point I’d start getting antsy and wonder if Michael was getting frustrated or overwhelmed by the chorus of demands that inevitably arises with two kids. For some reason, I always feel that I should never let him get that frustrated. For some reason, I feel as though I must rescue him before he reaches his boiling point. (When I’d get home, everything would be perfectly fine, of course. Ninety-eight percent of the time, anyway.)
There are so many reasons why, while on this trip, I should not only be soaking in the course material, but also enjoying myself and my kid-free time. Guilt-free.
I’ll aim for that. But I don’t think I’ll manage to be entirely worry-free. That would be asking too much.
So you can bet that I’ll be checking in by phone each evening, and maybe even by Skype. And after the course ends at 4:30 on Friday, I’ll be heading straight for the airport to catch the next flight home.
And everything will be perfectly fine, of course. (Ninety-eight percent of the time, anyway.)