What is crazy is that I have done this before. Long trips overseas working. But never EVER as a mama. Leaving dada, I have done that, but leaving my babies??
Okay, so I am taking one baby with me (the actual in fact baby) dear little bugga (short for buggaboo, which I started calling her for some reason in the weeks after she was first born) she will keep me company, keep my mama-ness intact, lest I forget. (HA. Sarcasm)
It is strange though, isnt it? Yes, I can exist apart from this little world within four walls, snug and cozy and ... monotonous ... and lovely and dear. I can. And there are parts of me that are "un-mama" Parts of me that love new ideas, new places, interacting with adults in intelligence (rather than say, on commenting on my kids cute-ness in the Target parking lot). This can happen.
And, what is more, I can still think. Use my brain for things other than, say, how to follow the Lego instructions to build the Ewok treehouse (incredibly complicated, I might add).
And, what is even more. It is okay. Okay to be excited about using this other dormant part of me.
But I still feel guilty, leaving my guys behind. "But there are volcanoes there!" sigh little man. "I WANT TO SEE THEM." Yes, yes, I know. We will go again. (Soon-ish?) "But I want to be with mama!" says little miss. Yes, yes, I love you too.
They will survive, right? Dada is perfectly capable. (Though, he ISNT mama) And grandma is leaving her farm for a few days to come and help out too.
|my hack job of a book, attractive, no?|
Okay. Seventeen hours of flights and layovers with baby. A week away. Nineteen hours of travel home. A whole lotta nice-ness in between.