This past weekend, I had an escape. I was able to travel to Colorado (my hometown and a favorite place always) for my stepmom’s 75th birthday. It was perfect. Seriously, it was a really great weekend. And not just ‘cause I got to ride in a ninee.
But before I got there, it wasn’t so great.
A four-hour delay in Chicago gave me time to think really ridiculous and weird thoughts. On one side, I have a confident, world-traveled brain that knows thousands of moms leave their three-year olds with their dads for a weekend away. All the time. And everything turns out just fine. It’s the other side that’s a jerk. The stupid, mean side of my brain imagines all sorts of horrifying scenarios.
First, we scroll through the normal anxiety-based scenarios like “I hope my plane doesn’t crash.” Everybody thinks this stuff, right?
From there, it got even more ridiculous. I wondered whether Tucker and Robert would be able to survive a tree falling on them. It happens.
At some point, I realized that I was being ridiculous. I think it happened in the bathroom. Because certainly nobody else is this stupid.
Calling Robert for comfort wasn’t an option. While he’s used to my particular brand of crazy, even he has his limits when it comes to reassuring me.
So then, I became productive!
Oh. You thought I meant I was working? Nah. I meant productive as in proactively relaxing.
My flight finally left, I made it to Denver in time for dinner and had an awesome time with my family. I won’t tell you about the flight home, because I didn’t have a four-hour delay in Chicago and therefore, no time for a massage. Or any of that other stuff.