By the time this blog posts I'll be on the road. I'm already missing my kid and I haven't even left yet. That's so crazy: I spend all this time feeling burned out, really craving a break from being a parent for a day or 2 and when the time comes I really don't want to go. I don't want to be separated from my kid for 9 days. When your kid is not near you then people looking at you have no automatic visual explanation for the dark circles under your eyes, the frizzy grey disheveled hair, and the creepy facial tick you developed from too many conversations with people under 4 years of age. They just think you look that way because you're crazy, or addicted to drugs.
But the main reason I don't want to be separated from my kid is because I don't want to be separated from my number one source of joy and awe and gratitude. At the end of the day, after all the tantrums, after all the power struggles at dinner, after being run like a waitress with 5 ten tops that all got seated at once and want 50 separate checks, I can still look at him sleeping at the end of the day and think, "What a perfect, perfect Angel. How lucky am I?" Usually followed by, "Oh crap I better get to bed and hope for a solid 4 hours before he hops into our bed and starts kicking me in the kidney."