A bucket full of crazy

So I’m off to Dubai and the Maldives this week… Feels very strange to even be writing this. It’s not all fun and games, actually it’s mostly long flights, a lot of hand holding, and uncomfortable heel wearing, but it’ll be in a beautiful place so there’s only so much complaining I’m allowed to do. It’s not the best time to be leaving as the Ex is still recovering between hospital stays and the kids have gone through enough upheaval to last them a lifetime, but the truth is, this trip is partly work, partly getting my mind off things and honestly, I really need a break. Also, sunshine and beaches. Most importantly I get to spend a few days with my brother, which is awesome and though he often pisses me off like no other he’s also one of the people with whom I have the most fun. Which seems to be the way most siblings feel about each other… or so I’ve gathered watching my two kids interact.

I’m always a bit nervous leaving the kids, especially since this time I’m going to be taking six different flights in a little over five days. My mind always goes to the tragedy, to the unimaginable, it doesn’t help that I just finished reading a book on a plane wreck and subsequent stranding on a desert island in the pacific. I really should watch what I read and when…

I feel like I should leave my children with words of wisdom and extra hugs and heartfelt letters… although this blog and the previous one are a form of heartfelt letter I guess. But I can’t really live like that though can I, because if I start doing that I’ll have to do it whenever I leave the house, or they leave the house and then it just gets weird and obsessive and a little bit disturbing. So I just tell myself I’ve been on hundreds of flights, and will probably be on hundreds more and everything will be fine, and my children will grow up with me by their side and all will be as it should. The alternative, obsessing and fearing and trying to control something that I really cannot control is just a recipe for disaster. So I sit here, writing this, trying to keep a lid on the bucketful of crazy that seems to take over whenever I have to fly anywhere without my kids. I wonder what I’ll be like when they are the ones flying off without me. I shudder at the thought.

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