1 Mother 2 Another

My amazing husband and incredibly
sacrificial mother have teamed up to give me an astonishing early
birthday present – a trip to New York to see my friends.


It’s been a whirlwind of planning and getting ready and
making all the big decisions, such as where to eat every delicious
meal in the city. But as ecstatic as I am about going there,
I’m not so thrilled about leaving here.

You see, other than the two nights every
year that Brian and I head to a nearby hotel to celebrate our
anniversary, the only time I’ve been gone from my girls was
for my grandmother’s funeral – four years ago. When I
was barely pregnant with Cora. So I’m not quite sure how
I’m going to handle being away from them for several days.


And to say that the girls are less than thrilled is an
understatement. Maddie is fuming that she’s not coming as
well; she misses her best friend from New York and can’t
understand why I don’t just “buy another ticket!
We’ll share a bed and share meals! I won’t cost
anything, Mommy, I promise!” As for Cora, she handled it
astonishingly well, until she realized that “giving Mommy the
gift of a trip to New York” didn’t mean that the whole
family was coming, too. Upon hearing the news, she ran to the couch
and threw herself down, sobbing, “But I don’t remember
New York! I don’t remember what it looks like! I need to see
it again!”


I’ve promised the girls we’ll take a trip as a family
soon, and they understand that this is their gift to me – the
sacrifice of giving up their mommy for a few days. My mom and Brian
are taking over childcare and swear they’re up to it.


Just in case, I’ve done a few extra chores ahead of time.


I’ve planned all the meals from now until I get back.
I’ve cooked and frozen said meals. Maddie’s school
routine has been typed out, special upcoming events have been
detailed out. Cora’s heading to a birthday party on Sunday,
and the gift is purchased and wrapped, card all filled out.
I’ve left instructions on medicine dosage, suggested
“fun things to do” while I’m gone, and even
written up such mundane things as how to wrestle with the
thermostat.


In short, I’m ready. Ready to head out and spend several days
with two of my best friends in the world. Ready to eat my way
through the chocolatiers of New York, to chow down on my favorite
pizza, Italian, Chinese, French, and Indian. Ready to catch up with
long-lost friends, to have a fabulous time reading books without
pictures, and watch not a single Wild Kratts for the next several
days.


Why, then, do I feel like I’m leaving a couple very vital
things behind?