Tomorrow morning I leave for the weekend. By myself.
I’m excited to be going. I’m visiting my bff for the long weekend. I’m unbelievably psyched about working, reading, and maybe even napping (!) on the plane (::coughcoughbloodymarycoughcough::). I’m going to stay up late, sleep in, drink too much coffee and too much whiskey.
But I’m also sad — sluggish in my packing, anxious about what’s done and what’s not as A and the zunzun embark on their first weekend alone together. My first night(s!) away from him.
A and I are both a little apprehensive. We’re not sure how the zunzun will grapple with the change, and we’re nervous about how he’ll react to such an extended time with no nursing. (I will be so sad if this trip weans him, but it’s a risk, even as he’s still a fiend about it.) It might mean some very early mornings for both of them. We’ll see, I suppose. He’s been known to surprise us.
They will be fine, of course. Good, even — it’s important that they get time alone together. It’ll be good for all of us. I do know it.