I’m leaving on a trip tomorrow. By myself, without the kids, for a week. I don’t want to leave them. I am trying not to freak out. I want to be calm and rational. In four years, I have only been gone from them for one night.
But… something has happened.
It will be awkward. I will be uncomfortable. I will pretend to be more confident than I am. I will go beyond my comfort zone and be the best supporter that I can be. There will be some good times, too. I am sure of it.
Motherhood has taught me that I can be strong and capable of many things. That I can cope. Strange to think of motherhood that way. That something so cherished and wonderful and natural can also be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I should be so lucky.
The kids will be fine. They’ll be home, in familiar surroundings, in a comfortable routine, with people who love them.
And I must rise to the occasion. And also to pack.