Fortunately for me, in a few days, I'll be heading off to the land of perpetual Sun and Dancing. Nope, not the Northwest Territories (I think there's a fair bit of dancing that goes on up there, correct me if I'm wrong?). I'm going to spend some time in Maui with my beloved sisters. There will be not a husband in sight and there will be no children. In so many ways, the very idea of it delights my heart. But there is also the part of me that is dreading it just a little. I've never left my kids for any real length of time and though I don't doubt that it'll be healthy for both they and I, I can't help but default to thinking that I'm the only person in the Universe who is able to take proper care of them. Ridiculous? Most certainly. Reasonable? Not even remotely. My high-strung, but heartfelt reality? I'm afraid so.
I remind myself that it doesn't spell out disaster if the planners aren't signed every single day. Surely the world will not stop spinning on its axis if the gym strip isn't washed one weekend. My friend, also a mother of four AND daycare provider extraordinaire is, if anything, more capable than I of ushering the Littles to and from school each day. My husband knows perfectly well how to drive to and from the swimming pool. Surely it's a form of high narcissism to think that only I can do it all competently. Who do I think I am, anyway?