Awaysick

Well, we did it. Two trips, two weddings, two weekends in a row. With a two-year-old. And as lovely as it was to sleep in my own bed last night, and eat a dinner tonight that I prepared from fresh, local produce, I'm sad that it's over.

I don't want to be home.

Not that the "being away" thing was all that wonderful. I'm a very cranky traveller, in general. I want my bed, my shower, my kitchen. Not having my creature comforts close at hand while also caring for a child who refuses to sleep anywhere but home makes me even crankier. The first trip was characterized by near-constant misery for all of us. But this time, I got to see my best friends. Which happens once a year. Maybe.

I spent four and a half days feeling overjoyed to be surrounded by the fun, intelligent, eccentric, neurotic, wonderful women I rarely get to see in person. But I worried about shifting so much of my focus away from Westley, leaving Rob to wrangle, entertain, and soothe our child alone. Socializing with old friends was both refreshing and guilt-inducing, a balancing act between "It's so good to see you! How are you?" and I really hope Rob and Westley are okay.

If I'd known how physically and emotionally exhausting it would be to travel with Westley, I almost certainly would've made arrangements for him to stay home while Rob and I took on the double-whammy wedding weekends. Choosing to bring Westley on what might have been a vacation meant, in a sense, paying to be miserable.

On the other hand, I desperately want my friends to be part of my family's life, too. I gain so much from their presence; I'm certain they have even more to offer Westley. How could I deprive him of the wisdom, love, and practical skills of half a dozen fairy godmothers?

Now I find myself missing them not only for myself, but for my son as well.

And despite my much better judgement, I'm already searching for our next set of plane tickets.

.....................................