This past week I was traveling out of the state for work. I spent the first two days in Washington DC, and then the last in Baltimore. It was a whirlwind of a trip – lots of work, lots of talking to clients, lots of hand shaking. I lost my voice on Thursday night, but otherwise felt fine and didn’t let it slow me down. I called home and spoke to my husband a few times when I had a few minutes here or there, but for the most part I was running around so much I had no time for anything else. It was Friday afternoon when I finally seemed to pause, look up, and realize I honest-to-god hadn’t even thought of my kids in the past three days.
Is that wrong? Am I bad mom? I know there are moms out there who can’t abide leaving their kids for even a night – and when they do call every 30 minutes and worry constantly until they’re home. But apparently, not me. I enjoyed this past week. I enjoyed a three hour airplane flight where it was just me, and my coffee, and my laptop. I enjoyed the work, the fast pace, the hustle. I enjoyed the adult-only dinners at nice restaurants. I enjoyed three and half precious days of just being … me.
Every once in a while I get an email from a reader who disagrees with my decision to work at all – let alone out of the home, in a position that requires me to travel 4 – 5 times a year. The graceful thing for me to do would be to email them back as they come in, thank them for being so concerned with my children’s welfare, assure them I’m saving money for my kids’ immanent need for therapy, and leave it at that. However, since I have absolutely no intention of wasting my very limited free time with activities of that nature, I’ll just let them find this gem of a post and draw their own conclusions about the state of my marriage and my children’s home environment.
Whatever, ladies. I’m cool with your judging. You don’t know me, you don’t know my kids, and (hopefully) you don’t know my husband. I promise you, we’re all good. I swear that no amount of 3 night business trips that help me remember that I am more than ‘mom’ or ‘hey you with the fruit snacks’ is going to cause my kids to grow up to be serial killers. I would ask that you turn the concern that you seem to have with the state of my family around and focus on issues that actually exist – like world hunger, or human rights, or even the fact that George RR Martin seems incapable of finishing a series of books that has 95% of the nerds in this world hanging by their fingernails on the edge of a cliff.
We’re good. They’re thriving, And I am happy.