September 16, 2010

Heading Out!

Tomorrow is my big trip to Down Under. The Expert is already down there, so I am heading out by myself. I am suddenly terrified and wondering why I did not find a doctor to prescribe me some sort of anti-freak out drug.

Interesting, the Expert told me that I should also enjoy the flight. He says, the flight will be the first time in three years that no one will be needing something from me. Even though it's an airplane ride, no one is going to be screaming "crackers" or pooping in their pants next to me (well, I hope not anyway). But knowing me, I will be sitting next to sixteen newborns. Ha. But in all reality. There are no emails, no text messages, no questions, no answers. Just up in the air.

So I'm looking at the anxiety through those goggles. And I feel better about the flight since my friend Diana (who is also in the category of scientist, a/k/a the Experts) posted this on Facebook: "When you are next in your car, put your hand out the window, horizontal to the ground. See how the air is pushing it up? That's "lift". Air is a medium just like water - think of the plane as swimming in the air." Nice. The airplane is a swimmer. Sweet!

Actually, the more I think about it - the issues are stemming not from the trip, and not really the flight, even though that is disconcerting. And it's not the packing (which truly gives me the most anxiety).

My biggest fear is leaving James and Stella. I know they are in good hands. But I just think I am going to miss them terribly. And it's only really for one week, and a work week too - they only see us about ten hours a week during a work week anyway. So I am trying to tell myself that they are only missing ten hours of us. But that's the thing also: both the Expert and I are gone. Usually, just the Expert is gone. Now, we are both 24 hours away from getting to our babies. That's crazy.

But I will miss their stinky feet and kissing their slobbery mouths. I may not miss the tantrums and throwing of food.... but man, I am going to miss those babies.

If I die from some strip search gone arwy in customs, please tell my children that I loved them and that they should stop stealing toys from each other. Because no one likes a thief!

Sigh. Love ya'll.

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