I’m going to a seriously amazing conference this week: the Mom 2.0 Summit. It will be Heather’s and my third time attending. If not for the information – both practical and inspirational – gleaned from previous years of this conference, I honestly don’t think we would ever have gotten our blog off the ground. And I certainly wouldn’t be publishing my writing in other publications. It’s been a game-changer.
And perhaps the best part is that Heather and I get to work side-by-side for a few days, rather than via IM and Google Hangouts and conference call and text, as is our usual MO. We have the technology thing down, but in truth we are so productive when we’re working together! It’s like a blast of energy into our business. I have been counting down the weeks and days leading up to this week like a little kid waiting for Christmas, I am that excited to be going.
However, today I suddenly feel a little sad and trepidatious. You see, it will be my first night away from the baby.
She is my third child, and as a battle-tested mom I should probably know better than to be sad over something so silly. I remember clearly that my second child spent a night away from me when she was a mere six months old, and this baby is already eight months old (forgive me for including a newborn picture; I love that picture and it sort of feeds into today’s melancholy mood to think about how little she was as a newborn). Plus the baby is staying with family; I am not a bit worried about her care and safety.
But whether it’s silly or not, I am sad. I am trepidatious. Something feels a little different this time. Perhaps it’s the big age gap between her and my older children, perhaps it’s the fact that it was a little bit tough to get her in the first place…whatever the reason, I am achingly aware of how fast this baby phase is slipping by. Missing three nights with her – even for an event I am thrilled and excited to attend – feels like a loss. This working mom thing…I don’t think it ever really gets easier, my friends.
So Mom 2.0 attendees…if you see a woman crying a little bit while either (a) slugging down a big glass of wine at the Dove welcome party, or (b) frantically taking notes during a conference session, that woman will be me. Please feel free to pat me on the shoulder sympathetically OR roll your eyes; either reaction is appropriate.