I left my kids for five days and I wasn't even sad.
I'm home after five days in Salt Lake City for Alt Summit (I'll share some highlights of the conference tomorrow).
I remember the first time I left Judah. He had just turned one and Eric and I went out of town for two days. Leading up to the time we left I was a nervous, sad, weepy mess. I knew he would be fine, but I also knew I would miss my little guy and be thinking of him constantly.
Fast forward seven years and here I am able to leave my kids with no guilt, no sadness, only twinges of missing them. I kind of feel guilty for not feeling guilty. (But, not really, because I know that a little time away is good to rest, recuperate, and be ready to take on the mama role again.)
Of course I missed them, but maybe I just really needed this. Maybe they're older and not as needy and I knew their schedule would be jam-packed with fun activities. I did check in on them regularly and, according to Eric, everyone was having fun and doing good. I came home to excited kids, a clean house, and a happy husband.
(This morning I've already dealt with two purposely smashed bananas, whines about homeschool, two injuries, and fighting. They're taking recess outside right now and maybe I want to head back to SLC for a few days.)