In retrospect, I question whether or not I should feel slightly offended that after I slipped quietly out of the house life went on. Just like that. I would like to think, however, that it was a testament to the very capable hands of whose care I left The Toddler in. And, of course, my awesome, albeit slightly Crazy-with-a-capital-"C," lists left strategically throughout the house.
In all honesty though, leaving The Toddler for the first time overnight wasn't nearly as difficult as I anticipated. The truth is, the minute he laid eyes on my Dad that morning, it was as if I had already boarded that plane and left for good. In all of my sentimental glory, I attempted to pose with The Toddler for one last picture before stealthily slipping from his vision- the child wanted nothing to do with me.
Needless to say, there was absolutely no stealth-sneaking necessary.
Over the course of my absence, both my parents and my husband dutifully sent pictures of The Toddler as he went about his typical day. Diner breakfasts, romps in the backyard with Sheepie, standing atop his tool bench pointing to his newborn pictures displaying not only his flair for danger but also his impeccable verbal skills as he exclaimed, "baby!" And I swear with each picture they sent, the child grew two inches and aged nearly 2 years.
Was his schedule followed to a "T?" Of course not. Will that land him atop a government building in thirty years brandishing a firearm? Doubtful. But was he smiling in every picture they sent? Of course. And it didn't hurt to note that his clothes matched as well.
Except for that picture sent by The Husband with the time stamp of 3:30pm that showed a jammie-clad toddler eating dinner. I'll let that one slide.
So, Loyals? I survived my first
...If for no other reason than to relive that priceless "omgosh-you're-home-i've-missed-you-so-much-let-me-hold-your-hand-mommy-the-WHOLE-way-home-from-the-airport" welcome that The Toddler greeted me with.