Scribbling Dame

Preposterous Pondering.

Jet Setting March 23, 2010

Filed under: Mommy Issues,SuperWoman Syndrome — Scribbling Dame @ 5:49 pm
Tags: , , ,

I am typing in my hotel room in Albany New York. I had a great day on a client visit where I totally nailed it.

I have mixed emotions about travel–especially since I became a mother. First I am a total control freak so letting the pilot control my fate at 30,000 feet in the air is not something that sits lightly with me. The older I get, the worse I am about this–I had to take a Vicodin on the way here just to chillax. Just one more notch on the typical suburban mom belt–abuse of perscription drugs.  

On the one hand I love to travel for work–I only have to do it once or twice a year and it means I get to eat hot meals uninterrupted and watch really bad TV in my hotel room. I usually paint my toenails or read a book (note to self: bring swimsuit on future trips just in case there is a hot tub). I can get up 30 minutes before I have to leave because that is how fast I get myself ready versus the usual 1.5 hours when I am trying to get baby girl and husband out of the house (I understand why the two-year-old is high maintenance but I swear I don’t know what the man does that takes so long to get ready…)

But, there is a downside. First of all leaving is awful–this was the first trip where I explained to Sofia that mommy was going on an airplane and would not be home for a couple of days. I got the cold-shoulder that night when I went to give her a kiss goodnight–not just the cold shoulder–I was actually denied! She was angry with me and of course that made me tear up because what if that was our last goodnight kiss ever (in case the plane breaks in half from turbulence or gets hijacked which totally happened in every Hardy Boys book I ever read). Even though it’s been two years since giving birth, that instinct is still there and strong–the sense that it is wrong, even dangerous, to leave her side. It’s a drag.

Then there is the whole realization, in a hotel room by myself, gassy with travel food, watching Extreme Dr. 90210 (hypothetically speaking of course) that I don’t even like alone time anymore. That as much as I might complain about cold meals and noise and no rest I can’t wait to get on that plane, survive the flights home, and get that welcome hug and kiss from my baby girl and hubby.

My life as a modern working mother is a complete fucking paradox all the time.

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