Leaving my family behind for a business trip is a blend of anxiety and exhilaration. The farewell is always tough, filled with quivering lips and teary eyes that seem perfectly timed to make me late, resulting in a tear-stained collar and a carry-on packed with guilt. But then, I board the plane.
Once settled, I switch off my phone, insert my earplugs, and—prepare to be shocked—I actually read a real book! One without colorful illustrations or pages dedicated to the care of children. Upon landing, I arrive at a hotel—a wonderful hotel—where I am the sole occupant of my room for the night. It doesn’t need to be luxurious; I’m not picky. I could care less about the thread count of the sheets as long as they’re mine alone. The sounds of the AC or a running toilet don’t bother me; I can sleep through anything that isn’t a tiny human’s noise. When I wake up after a glorious eight hours in a king-sized bed—free from being wedged between a snoring dog and a child who kicks like a martial arts master—I stretch out and ignore the gym clothes I packed, opting for an extra hour of blissful sleep.
When I finally rise, feeling more like my old self than I have in years, I switch on the TV to catch the Today Show. While I briefly ponder the day’s escapades of Dora and her bilingual friends, I immerse myself in actual world events, leaving me more informed than just knowing that “cheetah” translates to “guepardo.”
Of course, I’ll make sure to call the little ones before bedtime, sharing my tales of a grueling travel day (perhaps omitting the part about my smooth flight and first-class upgrade) while expressing my eagerness to return home, tucking them in and inhaling the sweetness of their heads as I kiss them goodnight. But first, I’ll dine solo or with fellow adults at a restaurant where no one spills my drink or makes spitballs from straw wrappers. I’ll savor a meal without the threat of any electronic device being confiscated.
As the night unfolds, I’ll relax in a bed that won’t be stained by a midnight visitor with a leaky Pull-Up. I might momentarily wish to be home, but then I remember that would entail someone coming downstairs crying for water, needing a Band-Aid for an invisible injury, or searching for a beloved snuggie. Those problems will have to wait, so instead, I’ll pour myself a glass of wine and indulge in episodes of shows I’m recording on my DVR, though I might never finish them once I’m back on Snuggie duty.
Yet, after a night or two of this indulgent solitude, the quiet becomes monotonous, and the bed feels too vast. I eagerly return home, bearing hugs, kisses, and gifts hastily purchased from the airport out of guilt. Stepping back into the delightful chaos of family life, I’m overwhelmed by love and excitement, always grateful to be back.
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Summary:
Traveling for work can evoke mixed feelings in parents, balancing the joy of solitude with the guilt of leaving loved ones behind. The experience can provide a refreshing break, allowing for indulgence in simple pleasures like sleeping in and enjoying peaceful meals. However, the longing for home and family ultimately prevails, reminding us of what truly matters.
Keyphrase: Traveling Parent Reflections
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