Flying Solo

The day after tomorrow, I will board a plane all by myself.

I will pack just for me and not bring a single diaper, wipe or sippy cup. I will not be the parent who bounces a child on her lap mid-flight or catches vomit in her palms. (Hopefully.) I won’t have to lay a doll or bear in the security x-ray machine while blocking out tearful pleas. I will sleep in a bed all alone and have the luxury of showering without an audience. I will eat breakfast in bed and lunch and dinner in actual adult company. And I will not be loading a dishwasher, folding laundry or running a single errand for three whole days. I can hardly wait.

But, I’m also nervous. You see, along with the diapers, wipes and sippy cups, I’m also leaving behind my security blanket. All three of them.

Since having my first child five and a half years ago, I can’t think of a major outing I have taken without at least one of them. Children, and pregnancy bellies too, are fantastic conversation starters. Evan will run up to anyone with his messy face and open arms and break even the toughest of ice witches. Lily, my little people pleaser, gravitates towards babies and children. And Ben, in his aloof coolness, provides an easy out if I don’t feel like socializing. They make it totally easy and non-intimidating to meet new people and visit unfamiliar places. I’m never alone.

But, in two days I’ll leave them at home while I attend BlogHer. And I can’t wait.

Mostly.