Flying solo.

I am going on a trip for work tonight. It will be my first time away from both of the kids OVERNIGHT! That hasn’t happened, in I think…forever. I am so bloody excited. And I am excited for the simplest little things.

It isn’t because I don’t love ‘em—because I love them in a way that pains me sometimes, and it isn’t because I despise the diapers or short-order-cookery, and it isn’t because they don’t fill me with joy and disbelief and laughter and total, crazy-making frustration—like my first real love, it is something altogether simpler than all those tremendous emotions and serious responsibilities. They complete me to a degree, that I would like to have a night with the part of me that yearned to be finished in just that insane way.

I would like to have a drink with the woman, who made the hard decisions, which created the overwhelming life that requires every last shred of humanity and humor, and willingness to bring it to the table and serve it with a spicy marinara sauce. As I remember it, I liked that woman. She was a firecracker with a good heart and a quick wit.

I have a lot of affection for the old me. I worked hard to get what I thought I wanted, I was determined and dedicated. I reached some lofty external goals, then made a one hell of a mess of things, made them better, and decided there are only a few things truly worth compromising yourself for—one of them is love and the other is family. I admire that chick from the past, who knew that you’ve got to keep making edits, work through the changes and get the damn thing in operating order. Life is a work in progress—if nothing else.

I am looking forward to spending some alone time with her again.

Here is a list of the following things that I am yearning to do with unbridled enthusiasm:

1. Carrying a tiny, tiny, handbag
2. Doing a crossword puzzle on the plane
3. Reading a book that doesn’t rhyme
4. Specifically NOT responding to the word “Mommy!”
5. Wearing lipstick and daggling earrings
6. Traveling sans car seat, stroller, and diapers
7. Sporting a hairdo that doesn’t require an elastic
8. Eating paté and champagne
9. Not cutting anyone else’s meat
10. Sleeping soundly
11. Talking with adults, who value my expertise, not my juice pouring efficiency
12. Missing my family

I have filled up the refrigerator with enough food to start a small, Italian restaurant. I have made lists with schedules and meal suggestions. I have packed Gabriel’s lunch for school (minus the sandwich part—don’t forget Dave!). I have filled the laundry baskets with clean clothes and supplied enough diapers to get them through college. Barring some act of God, I think they are ready. And assuming I don’t implode before 6pm, I am ready too.

I am sure that I will be anxious, delighted, but anxious. I am going to savor the things that I can do without two little people and their myriad needs and relish the fact that it is only temporary. The silence will be strange and beautiful. I bet I crack at some point in the 24 hours. I can’t be trusted not to do something ridiculous. But the fun is in watching it all unfold. Wish me luck!