Embarking on a business trip often elicits a blend of anxiety and exhilaration. The anxiety stems from the emotional farewell, where the inevitable quivering lips and watery eyes from my children seem to perfectly synchronize with my departure, leaving me with a tear-stained collar and a suitcase heavy with guilt. Yet, once I board the plane, a transformation occurs.
I switch off my phone, slip in my earplugs, and indulge in the simple pleasure of reading a book—one devoid of colorful illustrations or topics related to child-rearing. Upon arrival, I check into a hotel—a sanctuary of solitude—where I can relish an entire night in a room all to myself. The accommodation doesn’t need to be luxurious; I am not overly particular. The quality of the bed linens is irrelevant as long as I am the sole occupant. The sounds of a rumbling air conditioner or a running toilet fade into the background; I can sleep through anything that isn’t a tiny human’s noise. After a full eight hours in a spacious king-sized bed, I awaken refreshed and human, having escaped the confines of a child-filled night.
As I rise, I turn on the television to catch the news, momentarily pondering the delightful escapades of cartoon characters before absorbing actual world events. This knowledge will prepare me for the day ahead, equipping me with insights far more relevant than the Spanish term for “cheetah” (which is guepardo, by the way). Of course, I will make a phone call to my little ones before bed, sharing tales of my taxing travel day—perhaps omitting the details of my smooth flight and first-class upgrade—and express my eagerness to return home, to tuck them in and breathe in their sweet scent. However, first, I relish the experience of dining out, either with colleagues or in peaceful solitude. Here, I won’t have to worry about spilled drinks, scattered salt, or makeshift spitballs. I can enjoy a complete meal without the need to threaten anyone with the loss of their favorite electronic device.
Later, I can unwind on a bed that won’t be soaked by a midnight visitor with a leaky Pull-Up. While I may briefly wish to be home, I quickly recall the inevitable interruptions: someone needing water, another needing a Band-Aid for an imaginary scrape, and yet another crying for a lost snuggie. Alas, those challenges are not mine to solve tonight; instead, I indulge in a glass of wine while binge-watching shows I’ve recorded but may never finish once I return to my role as a devoted parent.
However, after a night or two of this luxurious solitude, the quiet soon becomes mundane, and the bed feels overwhelmingly vast. I find myself yearning to return home, arms open for hugs, showering my children with kisses and hastily acquired gifts from the airport, a token of guilt for my absence. Re-entering the delightful chaos of family life, I am enveloped by love and excitement, grateful to be back where I belong.
This article was originally published on Sep. 16, 2015. For more on home insemination, explore related topics at this resource. For expert information on artificial insemination, visit Make A Mom. If you’re seeking guidance on pregnancy, this website offers valuable insights.
Summary
Navigating the duality of business travel as a parent involves a complex mix of emotions. The initial dread of leaving family contrasts sharply with the freedoms experienced during solo nights away. While the solitude offers a break from parenting duties, the longing for home and family quickly sets in, reminding us of the joys and chaos that come with parenthood.