Leaving on a jet plane

Know exactly when I'll be back again, though.

I'm sitting at gate A-2 in the international terminal at SFO. My flight to Salt Lake City was supposed to have left an hour ago. Instead, the arriving flight just got here and the passengers are departing.

This trip is a little "last hurrah" for myself. I'm going to the Mecca for genealogists to gorge myself on microfilm and microfiche. I know, it's not everyone's cup of tea, but for me, this is very, very exciting.

Daddy and KB will have a Boys' Weekend. My stomach is doing flips. Not sure if that is 100% nerves, 100% the dim sum S and I ate for lunch, or some combination of both.

I haven't left KB since August 2006. He was 13 months old at the time. I went to Boston for a national genealogy conference. I had mixed feelings about that trip too.

This morning, we dropped KB off at daycare together. I've mentioned over the last week that Mommy is going away for a few days and Daddy and KB are going to have a ton of fun together. Every time I've said it, KB tells me "You need to stay with us." When we dropped him off, I didn't want to make a huge deal about the fact that I wouldn't see him for a few days. But on the other hand, I wanted to smother him with hugs and kisses because I am going to miss him like mad.

I'm curious what his reaction will be when he and S get home tonight and I'm not there. When I am not there to help with the bedtime routine. When I am not there in the morning.

Leaving him behind is so hard. While I know it's OK for me to have my own hobbies and interests, and to have a little "me" time, there is a huge part of me that thinks I should be there for him all the time.

It isn't guilt I feel exactly. Or maybe it is, partly. Fear? Fear that S is going to be better/more patient with the single parent thing than I am? Fear that he won't?

Or fear that KB isn't going to miss me at all.

I'm pretty sure that is a big part of it.

And while I know that I am going to have a lot of fun geeking out this weekend, I also remember from last time that this is the hardest part -- the actual leaving.

Being at the airport reminds me of KB. The changing tables in the restroom where I have changed many a diaper between flights. The escalators he loves to ride on. Going through security, which is amazingly easy when you're flying solo.

I just need to give myself permission to go and to have a good time.

How long after I land do you think I'll call home?