On the Road

This week, I am taking a short work-related road trip to Little Rock, Arkansas to do a presentation at a conference.  I'm looking forward to it in the same way that I'd be looking forward to being abducted by pirates; public speaking is really not a strength of mine and I'll be glad when it's over because I'm starting to have angst about it.  I mentioned to the offspring that I'd be gone for a couple of days; the teenager kind of nodded and went back to her iPad but the Son of Never Stops Eating perked right up.

Son: Can I go?
Me: No, of course you can't go.  You have school.
Son: I'd rather go with you.
Me: This isn't like a fun trip. This is for my job.
Son: It's still better than school.

I'm not sure what the motivation is here- spending more time with his wonderful mother, or getting out of school, but he's not going.

When the offspring were wee babies instead of teenagers, I would travel for work and people would say things to me like, aren't you sad to be leaving your babies? Wouldn't you rather be home with them?  It must be so hard for you to say goodbye to those sweet faces. And I'd be thinking, are you kidding me? A few nights in a hotel, eating out in restaurants that don't have happy meals, being able to take a bath without someone standing by the bathroom door saying mommy....mommy....are you going to come out?  This is like a dream come true.  Even if it is for work. Somehow it seemed socially unacceptable to say, no, I really want to go,  I'm not that sad- people would think I was a terrible mother.  Internally, however, I would be jumping with joy.

I actually did miss my kids, but not in a sad, moping sort of way.  I'm not a horrible mother, despite what you are probably thinking about me now.  It would be hard not to miss all that cuteness, but staying in a hotel and having time to actually read a grownup book instead of "Cat in the Hat" did make up for some of it.

The only exception to this unbridled joy at the prospect of work travel was when I was nursing my son and I had to take my breast pump with me.  This was after 9-11 and there was some confusion amongst the TSA agents when I went through airport security about whether a breast pump was a dangerous device. The young man who was questioning me about it seemed rather disconcerted at the whole idea (you do what with it?  you mean, like a cow?).  Fortunately, that was a time-limited problem.

Now the offspring are teenagers and no one seems to think that I'd miss them, or that I would rather be home with them instead of travelling to exotic locales like Little Rock, Arkansas or Huntsville, Alabama.  Actually, even when I travel it's like I never even left, because even when I'm at home I don't see them that often and I can still text them their favorite Mom Reminders, like "clean up your room, thx", or "watch the data usage, please". 

One aspect of work travel has not changed through the years.  No matter where I go, no matter how long I am gone,  I am still greeted the same way when I walk through the door.  For some reason, they both want to know what I brought them.  Apparently, the expectation seems to be that shopping for souvenirs is my number one priority.  Thanks be for hotel toiletries.