Work-Trip Love-Hate

I had to go away for a quick work trip. I was only gone one night. But still I was pathetically, ridiculously, embarrassingly homesick. Not for my house, but for my home. (Home is where my four are.) Every time it is the same old thing– driving to the airport takes all of my will power; I’d do just about anything to come up with a good excuse to be able to cancel; the lump in my throat is so big I can hardly swallow. I don’t know how mothers of young children who have to do heavy business travel do it. It kills me to go away from home. And I miss Braydon terribly when I’m gone. I hate work trips.

But then I’m luxuriating in the independence and freedom of a whole 3 hours on a plane with nobody to worry about except for myself. And then, even better, I’m in the hotel. Last night, upon checking in, I got a free upgrade to the club level. Gosh do I ever love the club level (the food and drink spreads! the array of fine magazines! the cushy couches! the wi-fi! the all-you-can-drink-cappacino! the service!)… a hotel alone (let alone club level!) is like heaven for a mom. I ordered room service last night. And ate it, alone, with not one interruption, while watching the Travel Channel. We don’t get the Travel Channel at home. I was in the lap of luxury. And then I slept all night long. And got up with only one person (me) to get ready. I love work trips.

As the plane was about to land I felt the re-entry start to kick in. I was away for less than 48 hours, but I know what I’m in for when I return. Everything needs to re-balance and get back on track after Mommy’s been away. Back to the nitty gritty details of it all. Meera is always the biggest challenge– she hates it when I go away, and I pay for it upon my return. And I was running on fumes, having just poured myself into the work I had gone away for. It was freezing cold on the ground in Pennsylvania and I had trouble finding my car keys buried deep in my luggage. I hate work trips.

I drove straight from the airport to surprise Meera by picking her up early at daycare. The look on her face when I walked in the door was precious. She ran into my arms and with her whole tiny 3-year-old body she just hugged me for the longest time. And then she looked up at my with her huge blue eyes and said, “I missed you on your work trip Mommy. I so happy you is home!” I took her to Starbucks for a pink cake pop and a chocolate milk (and I desperately needed coffee). We sat there chatting like only we can. It was sweet and I soaked up every second of it, trying to notice every detail that I had missed while I was gone, and remembering how much I love being home. I love work trips.