Last weekend, I spent about 24 hours away from home -- I was actually less than two miles from my house, but we could have been in China for what it felt like. Because for that 24 hours, I had no responsibilities for anyone or anything other than me-- no kids, no husband, no house, no job. It was my first time having a "sleep-over party" with a girlfriend since I don't know when -- and just like when I was a kid, I was the last one still awake and talking after everyone else fell asleep.
The time away with a dear friend (whose daughter was at home with another friend) was both strange and lovely -- strange to feel so solo, with no one asking for a sippy cup or to be held or can I do this or that, yet lovely to have time to finish a complete sentence or just be still for a bit. We saw a Sunday matinee movie, ate take-out for dinner in our hotel, slept late, got pedicures and had lunch outside, all before I resumed my regular life picking up Junius from preschool. I missed everyone at home, but being away for even just a quick "trip" made me that much happier to be back with them the next day.
This weekend, we have a different kind of sleep-over planned. This time, Junius is the one getting away -- and I think he's even more excited than I was last weekend. I, however, am terrified.
He's going for his very first sleep-over ever -- staying with Nonna and Grandpa for one night. I'm sure he'll have a blast, and I know they're thrilled that he's coming. But somehow I just can't believe that my baby boy is old enough to spend the night both away from home and away from me. What if he misses me and Daddy? What if he wakes up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep? Or, gasp, what if he doesn't even notice that I'm not there?
Deep breaths. Slow, deep breaths.
At least I'll have the Pip to keep me busy as she cries out in the middle of the night demanding, "Where my pacie go, mommy?!"
Sigh. I'm going to need a good nap come Sunday afternoon.