In a Land Far, Far Away...

Michael and I are in London.  We're here for a wedding.

No, not that wedding.  But one just as special.  A good friend of mine from college is celebrating her nuptuals the day after Prince William and Kate's big day.  Our friend's "official" wedding was a few weeks ago in the US, but out-of-state, and when we decided to go there to celebrate, we decided that we could just as well attend their second celebration held in the UK.  England is on our bucket list.  Michael was in London years ago and loved it; I have never been, but my friends who have never cease to gush about how fantastic it is.

So we decided to go, and decided to go without our Oliver.  That would be a very different trip.  Ever since we bought our tickets, I have been equally exicted for the travels and tearful for the anticpated 10-day separation.  There were evenings when I actually just started crying thinking about being away from him.  And the obvious questions haunted me: Would he think we were leaving him for good?  Would he be asking for us every day?  Some days he asks for Daddy ten times over in the morning before he goes to daycare, and that's just when Michael's at work.  We were leaving him, leaving him, for 10 days.  Would he be excited, confused, or mad at us when he sees us again?  Sounds like a stupid question, but let's talk about my cat:  whenever we return from a mere few days away, she insists on a boatload of extra attention, as if to say, "all of that petting and treat-giving that you missed?  You're going to make up for it, because you left me, and that was just mean."

But Ollie is not our cat.  He's a toddler, and a well-adjusted one at that.  My sister Karen flew in from Cincinnati to stay in our house and take care of Oliver so that his routines would stay the same- he'll even be at daycare for part of the time while Karen works remotely from our house.  He adores Karen.  They have big plans that include the zoo, parks, and playdates, and Oliver will get to do more fun stuff than he would if we were home pushing through our workweeks.  As my sister-in-law said, he will, in a sense, have his own vacation, or staycation, rather.

When it was time to drop me and Michael off at the airport, I fought back the tears the best I could, not wanting Oliver to think that this departure was a big deal.  But I saw his face change a little as we pulled up to the airport.  He had seen his aunt Karen leave at this very building many times over, leave for several weeks at a time....Michael bent over the carseat to kiss him and say goodbye.  Oliver started to cry.

By the time I said my goodbyes, Oliver was outright sobbing.  "MaaaaMaaaa!  MaaaaMaaaaa!!!!!"  His face was beat red, streaming with tears, and reached desperately with both arms and both legs, trying to get out of his carseat.  "MaaaaaaaMa!"  I gave him more kisses, turned around and walked away, my own self falling apart at the seams.  I made Michael wait with me inside the sliding doors while I tried to compose myself before checking in to Delta.  My heart was broken.

I know we are doing something fantastic by taking this trip, to see my friend, to see Europe, to be with each other as huband and wife without the distractions of work or home.  Even in those tearful moments of replaying the goodbye in my head over and over, hearing Oliver's cries, I knew that things would be fine at home, and we were beginning an incredible trip.  Taking this trip without Oliver is the right thing to do.  As I sat at our gate, wiping more tears from my cheeks, Michael showed me a text from Karen.  Oliver was over it in two minutes.

I can't say that I was, but I'm so much more at peace knowing that he didn't fear our leaving for very long.  I'm writing this entry tonight from a hotel in Kensington; we've been walking around London this evening and I'm learning all kinds of things, like how lines are called ques, buildings here are really old, and the skirts on the stick figures on the women's bathroom signs are inexplicably poofy.  I'm in Europe.  I'm in Europe!  Tonight I feel very far from my son... but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to looking forward to sleeping without a baby monitor next to my bed.

Cheers.