Leaving You
I’m typing this on a train (please to blame any and all typos on a particularly bu-u-u-mpy stretch of tra-a-ack), on my way to a conference in another city, trying to count the number of entire nights I’ve spent away from my children. It hasn’t been that many, yet it hasn’t been that few, either.
Some mothers break out in the sweats and shakes at the idea of leaving their children for long stretches of time. For me, well, I have to admit that I only felt that way when I was breastfeeding. (Nature OR biology or whatever does a damn fine job of wiring the postpartum female brain into sticking around in that regard.) Once they weaned, I was almost instantly fine with browsing hotel and travel sites, ready for a chance to hand them over to the grandparents while I slept the hell IN.
Managing Separation Anxiety (Yours AND Theirs)

I guess if I want to be Little Miss Useful Columnist, I’d include a list of Handy Tips! And Ideas! To Make Travel Easier On You Both! Have your caregiver wear your clothes! Bring five gajillion photos! Buy them things! Bring along Skype and a webcam! (Okay, that last one is actually something we do all the time.) But really, it’s…okay. Babies and kids are resilient little buggers. It’s us neurotic types who need the handholding and extra hugs, maybe.
I put Ezra down for his nap before I left today — I spent a ridiculous extra amount of time snuggling with him beforehand, to the point where he was gesturing madly at the crib, like, I AM TIRED, WOMAN, LET ME SLEEP. I asked for extra kisses and had a momentary moment of panic and guilt at the door, knowing he’d just…wake up to me not being there.
Then it was time to say goodbye to Noah — who is now really old enough to understand that Mommy and Daddy sometimes go on trips for awhile — and got hit with another wave of guilt because I was just springing the news on him. He asked if I wanted to play Candyland with him, and I explained that I couldn’t right then, and that I had to go on a trip and would be back tomorrow night after bedtime. He thought about this for a second. “So, you’ll play Candyland with me THEN, right?”
I said yes, and he said okay.
When did you first leave your baby/child/children overnight? How old? How long? Were you a mess of nerves or simply couldn’t get out the door fast enough? Has it gotten easier with each trip, or only easier if you’re leaving them to go to a tropical paradise as opposed to say, a business conference in Cleveland?

