I’m currently sitting in a plane travelling three million miles from my kids. Okay. Maybe that’s a little hyperbole.
I’m on my way to meet, for the first time, a good bloggy friend who lives on the opposite coast from me. I have to say, it’s been tough getting ready for this trip.
It’s the furthest and longest I’ve been away from the kids.
While, honestly, I’m excited to meet my friend and explore a part of the country I’ve never seen, I’m also feeling horribly guilty. For some reason, the very idea that I’m travelling for no other reason than to have fun with a friend doesn’t seem like a strong enough justification to leave my children for four days.
If I were going for work, I’d sigh and resign myself to the trip and then have a little fun and relaxation in a bed made for one.
If I were going for a blogging conference, I’d get excited and rationalize that the learning and networking opportunities far exceed any guilt I feel for ditching the kids.
But I’m going for sheer fun and relaxation.
And I’m feeling guilty.
But not guilty enough to stay home.
Just enough to make me fret a little.
The funny thing is, if it were a girlfriend leaving for a few days, I’d cheer her on, tell her to have fun, and push aside any of her guilty feelings. Funny how it doesn’t seem the same when the tables are reversed.
Do you ever take trips without the kids? Do you feel guilty or do you enjoy your time away without a twinge?