Bittersweet Endings

Clare's birthday was a little bit bittersweet. It marked endings and beginnings, wrapped up into one neat calendar determined package.

Her second birthday marked her ability to join Grace at the Montessori near our house. It is a place where I know she will be nurtured emotionally and academically. She will have the security of her sister and small, comfortable classrooms. She will play in the dirt, sun and rain. She blossom.

But she is no longer with me.

My girls are now 60 minutes away from me instead of 60 seconds. The voices drifting through the windows into my office no longer contain their voices. The distance seems deafening.

Only to me though.

The girls? They are enraptured with their reunited status as sisters 24/7. Instead of lunch time giggles that are disembodied drifts, I am greeted with shouts and giggles and ear to ear grins. I get reports of fresh fruit snacks and play time mud pies.

And honestly, what better celebration of a 2nd birthday is there than a gift of toddler self-actualization?

(And commutes listening to CSPAN instead of Lori Berkner?)

Come Talk to Me @ BlogHer

So I’m about to go on an adventure.

All by myself.

Well, not really all by myself. Robin and Denise are coming with me.

But right now, I feel all by myself.

I tried packing my bag all weekend long. I put things in, I took things out. Grace put things in and took things out. I’ve analyzed if I have enough room to bring my own pillow like a child because I just don’t sleep right without it.

And now? My stomach is churning. The calendar has flipped and it is officially August and I am officially leaving in 2 days for San Diego.

Posts like this have really been helping, but still…. I get it is OK to be awkward. In my mind though, it is fine for other people to be awkward, but aren’t I supposed to have my shit together and fully embrace the idea of freedom and adventure for five very long days. Part of me relishes the idea of seeing this computer based life in person, but another part of me feels like such a fraud.

You know, you read me. You’ve noticed that my posts have dropped off significantly in the last year or so. Am I a blogger, just because I have a url? Well, I guess I did have business cards made to that effect.

Once I get on the plane I know I will be fine. We have invites to parties galore, and lot of free booze will make all my worries go away, right?

So really, come talk to me. Because I think I will really need it.

Have I mentioned that my stomach is churning?

Away

Tuesday night was the first night I've ever been away from Clare.

393 nights I've spent with my Clare in my arms and pressed to my chest. Give or take a few.

When Matt travles for buisness, Grace says he is going on vacation because there is a hotel stay involved. So while I packed my bag on Monday night, Grace asked why I was going on vacation. I know it is just a word, vacation. Something that helps her understand what is going on, why we are sleeping in beds that are not our own, but it felt like a knife to me.

Mama is not going on vacation.

In fact, I am trying to come up with any feasable reason not to go. If I hadn't promised to split the cost of the hotel room with a colleauge, I don't think I would have gone. 393 nights with my babies. The panic attacks about not being there for the 394th night made my stomach churn right into my throat.

Dropping the girls off at daycare Tuesday morning was gut wrenching. I didn't cry on Clare's 1st day of daycare, but I bawled that monring.

Borrowed From the History Books

Matt is headed to Boston for a conference today. Awesome for him, sucks for me.

This - travel thing - is going to start happening more and more for him. Other people are starting to realize how cool he is. Cool enough to put up on a panel and force others to pay to hear him talk anyway. I have a feeling that this first speaking engagement is going to cause a ripple affect. Again, awesome for him, sucks for me.

I really haven't had to single parent all that often. Sure, there have been plenty of all day workouts and triathlon events, but that is during the DAY. Gracie and I can run errands and shop until she drops. NIGHT though, that is a whole other beast.

We've settled into a routine in our house. I give Grace her bath (because I don't mind sitting on the floor and splashing for 20 minutes, where Matt gets frustrated with the process) and Matt puts her to sleep (because it is the exact opposite, I have no patience for play after the lights are out).

Yes, I know we should not be rocking her to sleep with a bottle of warm milk at almost 2 years old, but that is a whole other issue that will have to be addressed sometime in the future. Like when our pediatrician, Dr. H, yells at us for it at her two year old check up next month. Anyway, at NIGHT Grace wants her daddy. For the next three nights she will only get mommy.

My plan? Shock and awe.

I don't borrow from G.W. (or any republican) well, ever, but in this case I'm going to run with the slogan. My plan is to wear her out. Stay at work until 4:30-5 pm so she can run around in even more manic circles that happen as the afternoon stretches at daycare and then pound her with dinner trips to places like Red Robin.

It'll all be win-win, right?

She gets to expel extra energy, which will hopefully tire her out more than normal and then will be sated with fatty, crab laden foods accompanied by balloons in an environment where screaming children are the norm. On the way home from said dinners, she will be so exhausted and belly bursting full she will fall dead asleep in the car and transfer easily to her crib, sleeping the entire night and waking cheerfully in the morning for another round of 'Daddy's Gone!' fun.

Right? Right?!? That is how this week will go.

All By Myself

Matt has taken Gracie with him to visit his family in Chicago, so aside from a dog, this is the first time I will be alone in a long time.

And I am starting to get excited about it.

I am going out for a beer tonight. Normally, I wouldn’t have been able to do without a lot of pre-planning, followed by the anxiety of a crabby baby that night as my punishment for going out.

I am going to paint our powder room bathroom that has been driving me nuts since we moved into our home three years ago. Normally, this is forbidden due the combination of paint fumes and baby hands on wet pain.

I am going to sit on the couch and watch girly movies. Normally, Matt pouts and leaves the room when I watch anything that isn’t sports, food or news related, so his absence means I can camp out for an all day movie marathon.

I am going to take a really, really hot spa bath. Maybe I'll even add bubbles. Normally, the noise of the tub is guaranteed to piss off Grace, so our beloved tub has only been used 3 or 4 times in the last 15 months.

Ahh, finally a happy weekend of doing nothing.