Before I put the kids to bed tonight I told them that I am leaving tomorrow for a few days for a publications conference in San Antonio. I planned this carefully. I didn't want them to have to stew about it for a long time, but I didn't want them to be surprised when I head for the airport instead of sacrament meeting tomorrow morning.
A - emotional, loving, flexible child - cried and cried, made me promise to leave him a red lipstick kiss on a piece of paper and make Daddy roughhouse with him. (Yes, I am normally the one who does that. If you have been reading this blog for very long you already know that we have our gender roles a little funny in our family.) Then he prayed that I would "have safe travels" and not get hurt.
S - mischievous, creative, stubborn child - first confided his plan to stow away in my suitcase and play Pirates of the Caribbean on his Gameboy all day while I attended my meetings, thereby missing school and escaping three days' worth of homework. Then he prayed that God would "bind me to the ground" so I couldn't leave. You can imagine him saying this, if you know S.
My kids are used to G being gone, but not me. It does feel different. Is it because of our habits, or because there really is something different? I can't answer that; all I know is that it's hard. I am really excited for this conference because we are getting ready to start up a magazine. But I am awfully glad I don't have to travel for work very often. I don't know how other mamas do it.
Adios! I'm off to the Riverwalk, leaving my sad little kids behind.
Crap! I forgot to tell you what else to look for! Mebbe I will call you in the evening (crossing my fingers that you have your phone with you).
ReplyDeleteI mean, c'mon... we all know this trip was really so you could souvenir shop for me! ;)
Come back safe & soon!
You can call my cell anytime this week. I know one thing you want. (Born on a mountaintop in Tennessee ...)
ReplyDeleteI've heard San Antonio is really beautiful.
ReplyDeleteSarah used to cry when I left a lot right after my son died and I was on an activist tear. She loved the presents I brought, but I remember her crying on the phone and I changed my reservations and paid extra and went home. One time.
I didn't leave her very much, but it was traumatic when I did.