Tears

Last night I cried. And cried and cried and cried. The lights were off and I was in bed and I just broke down. Because tomorrow I am leaving my baby ALONE for FOUR days. And by "alone" I mean in her house with her dogs and books and toys and under the excellent care of her third favorite person in the world, Grandma Lew. But it felt like I was about to abandon her. Leave her to the wild dogs with nothing but the clothes on her back. It was heartbreaking thinking about the four nights I won't be there to say good night, or give her a bath, or rock her in the dark. I cried because I know how much bigger and smarter she will be when I get back. What if she is sad? What if she is afraid? What if she thinks we are gone forever? What if it scars her psyche to think she is being abandoned by her parents? And so, I cried.

(After I cried I fell asleep to dream about having a crush on a boy and kissing that boy, the very boy who would be the key to letting me enroll in the freshman year honors class, the very class that my arch nemesis Blair Waldorf is trying to get into, the very nemesis who is equally upset when the boy I have a crush on picks three russian girls to be in the class and not us.)

When I woke in the morning I felt much better about leaving my sweet daughter in the hands of her wonderful and loving grandmother. The event of the night before was not unlike the night before I returned for work after maternity leave. I cried and cried and cried that night too, and in the morning I felt much better. I can say that I am only able to cry and cry and cry and then feel much better because I have a husband who lets me cry and cry and cry and doesn't make me feel stupid for feeling sad. He tells me it will be OK, and he is usually right, and he strokes my hair until I fall asleep. And then in the morning, when everything is back to normal, and I realize he was right and that everything is OK, I love him even more.

Tonight I will hold Evelyn very, very tight and give her ten kisses before bed instead of one. And when she pulls away and squishes her face up because she hates getting kisses, I'll pull her even closer and whisper "I love you" three times instead of two. Then we will all go to bed, and in the morning it will be OK.