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So my kids are on a plane, without me, or my husband. It’s still at the gate, and I’m still at the gate, but I have no way of knowing what’s going on inside. I hope for the sake of the other passengers that they’re behaving. And I hope they’re not scared.
We’ve all known that this was coming for more than a week, and I can honestly say that I didn’t feel at all nervous about it until they were actually out of my sight. I think staying strong for your kids is just one of those automatic things that you don’t even know you’re doing. So I gave them huge hugs – I thought Jake was going to break my back – and told them I loved them. Actually, I yelled it after them as they ran down the jetway with the gate agent telling them to wait up. They were eager, and I was proud that there was no scene, no drama, just slightly wet eyes from my son (don’t tell him I told you).
But now that I don’t have anybody here to be strong for, I’ve got butterflies in my stomach. I don’t get them when I put the kids in someone else’s car for a carpool, and I hate that my stomach isn’t cooperating with my logical brain on this.
My flight in the other direction doesn’t leave until an hour after they’ll be on the ground, so I have several hours to sit here and worry. Yay.
Originally posted on Selfish Mom. All opinions expressed on this website come straight from Amy unless otherwise noted. Please visit Amy’s Full Disclosure page for more information. Amy also blogs at Filming In Brooklyn, Behind the Screen, and the NYC Moms Blog.