taking off to san francisco...

This morning I'm getting on a plane to San Francisco to go to my friends' Jessica and Jackie's wedding. I will be bringing one carryon, my trashy novel that I can't put down (and also whose title I am not quite sure I can admit to), and my friend Kim, who so unselfishly volunteered to come with me when Boaz and I realized that it was really hard for the both of us to skip town and leave three kids behind for two nights.

I will not be bringing the kids, their things including boosters, the carseat, diapers and wipes, a pack and play, or my computer. Or Boaz, who I'm sad to not bring along since San Francisco is really where we met (at least if you ask him).

A girl's weekend is definitely in order. We've been scheming and plotting this trip for months and now I cannot believe that it's tomorrow. We've talked about the restaurants we'll go to, sights we'll see, drinks we'll have, shopping we'll do, and I'm especially excited about having some time to re-explore my old stomping grounds and see wonderful old friends.

But hearing my kids sound nervous about me leaving sets me a bit on edge. Samuel's been counting down this entire past week.
"This is the third to last night I'll say goodnight to you before you go to San Francisco," he told me earlier in the week as I was tucking him in.

"Two nights," I told him, "and one of those nights you're having a sleepover with a friend."

"But you won't be home," he said dramatically. "I wouldn't miss you if I knew you were home." I know it was all for my benefit--it was that "I will torture you because I love you" syndrome.

But now I feel nervous, too. Pathetically, this is really only the second time I've left all three of them (and in the loving, able hands of their father, but that fact really doesn't stop one's imagination from running amok). I'm sure they'll be fine, but it seriously is a bit physically painful to leave them.

I guess that's what motherhood is about... You can't even anticipate a decadent weekend with a girlfriend without being bogged down about what's going on at home.

That said, I'm sure that after the first five minutes in the airport where I'm not racing to my gate, holding a kid on my hip, lugging three bags and my boarding passes in hand, late because we left someone's shoe in the security tray and had to go back... I'm sure after not doing that, I'll be just fine.

And then I think a vodka and soda on the plane will help a bit, too. And also the shopping, and the museums, and the Mission burritos, and Italian food in North Beach and those fresh biscotti, and the music, and the hotel where I can sleep all night without waking up...

See you on Sunday!