My Trip Home - Day 1, Part 2

This post is part of an ongoing tale of my trip back home to Mississippi to visit my family. To start the story at the beginning, begin reading from October 30, 2007.

All the effort and panic I put out to get to the plane it seems to have done the trick. I made my flight on time and since everyone else booked for the flight did as well we were able to take off about 15 minutes early. The gods of travel were once again smiling upon me.

Airports are places where the average person stands even a small chance of running into a celebrity. Unlike hotels or restaurants or boutiques, there are only so many airports and eventually someone famous is going to come through them. And even though he may not be A-List material, on my flight from Amsterdam to Memphis, I sat next to Uncle Kracker.

Okay, it really wasn't Uncle Kracker. It was a guy with a goatee, sunglasses, a black baseball cap and two arms covered with tattoos. He wasn't anyone famous or even semi-famous but the minute I saw him "Uncle Kracker" popped into my head so I spent the entire flight mentally referring to him as Uncle Kracker. It occurred to me that perhaps he could be an air marshal but air marshals likely don't sit in a window seat hemmed in by middle-aged housewives, and they also don't spend 85% of the flight asleep. Unless he was just acting like he was asleep. If that was the case his cover was most effective because nothing seemed to faze this guy. During the flight he said exactly three things to me - Replying "Okay." to me when I told him he should just tell me any time he wanted me to move so he could get out of his seat, "You got a pen?" when he had to fill out the immigration and customs form, and "Thank God we're home." when the airplane's wheels touched down in Memphis. This man didn't eat the main meal served - slept right through it - and not once during the nearly ten hour flight did he get up to use the restroom. Uncle Kracker evidently has the bladder the size of a watermelon.

I hate mindless chit-chat with seat mates on a long flight so it wasn't hurting my feelings any that Uncle Kracker spent most of the flight unconscious. I was busy entertaining myself in other ways. I didn't take my knitting on the plane because I don't like feeling all hemmed in as I knit but I did bring along a book to read. However I was in a lovely Airbus A330 with video on demand so I had lots of movies to choose from to keep me distracted. First I watched The Good Girl and enjoyed it. While I normally can take or leave Jennifer Aniston, I like John C. Reilly and Jake Gyllenhaal and was surprised that I liked Jennifer Aniston pretty well in this movie. The next choice was Mr. Brooks. I don't want to spoil the film for anyone who hasn't seen it but I would advise not to make the same mistake I did and eat cheese filled and tomato sauce covered rigatoni as you watch this movie.

Which leads me to mention my eating habits on a plane. I don't particularly like airline food, although I will say it's vastly superior to hospital food. I don't know why I don't feel the need to just ignore and not eat what's given to me if there happens to be a menu item I don't like. Perhaps it stems from the thought that it all gets thrown away at the end of the flight and it seems a shame to not eat some wrapped up item. Or maybe it comes from the idea that the flight attendant will see what I didn't eat as he/she takes away my tray and will somehow judge me for my not eating something. Whatever the reason, I found myself eating a chunk of cold cheddar cheese as part of my meal. I am not a big fan of cheese and really hate it if it's cold or at room temperature. I like my cheese hot and melty and only like cheddar of it's in conjunction with a taco or fajita. But there I was, being all Miss Waste-Not-Want-Not and eating my chunk of cheddar.

Being on an airplane at an altitude of 37,000 feet didn't make it any tastier. In fact it was vile.

And vile is what I'd say the third film I watched was. I watched Georgia Rule and I wasn't disappointed in the film as much as I was annoyed and repulsed. I should have known better than to watch a Lindsay Lohan movie while on an airplane after I had a flight from Frankfurt to Washington, DC ruined by watching two of her in The Parent Trap. In Georgia Rule she plays a selfish, shitty character who had nothing wrong with her that my foot up her ass wouldn't have cured and Lindsay played the whole movie with a look on her face that made it seem as though her upper lip stinks.

We landed in Memphis about 45 minutes early and since I was sitting at front of economy class I got out of the plane and down to immigration and customs in record time. I gave my customs declaration card and passport to the official and while I may be mistaken, he seemed to get less friendly when he saw the German residency visa in my passport. He went on to ask me why I lived there and what my husband did for a living ("He's disabled.") and what I did ("I"m a housewife."). He then asked me how I got money and I explained that my husband draws a disability pension, which was about as much regarding my finances as I wanted to reveal. Then the official asked me how I could possibly afford a ticket to the United States and I looked him dead in the eye and told him that I was good at saving up for big purchases. I suppose my candid answer is what earned me a little mark on my customs declaration that prompted them to pull me aside once I'd retrieved my checked luggage for them to send them through X-ray and a possible hand search. But there was no worry. The most dangerous thing in my luggage was some tiny bottles of herb schnapps and some hand-dyed yarn so I scooted on with no trouble whatsoever.

My sister and my nephew, Sam, had just arrived at the baggage claim area when I walked up to retrieve my bags so we were out of the airport so fast my sister didn't even have to pay for parking. I'd seen them about 15 months ago but Sam's at the age where he's growing and maturing more every week so he seemed like a whole new kid.

Rush hour was just getting cranked up in Memphis so we decided to wait it out by having dinner at the Macaroni Grill. At that point I had been awake for about 20 hours and was really too tired to have much of an appetite but still I ended up with a piece of lasagna that was bigger than my head and was thankful that American restaurants love to give you a doggie bag.

It takes nearly 90 minutes to drive from Memphis to my hometown and by the time we arrived I'd gotten my second wind and was ready to drop by The Plantation, as I like to call the facility where she lives, to see my mother.

She's 3 years older since I last saw her. She more stooped and shuffles more as she walks. Her memory is like a sieve and her sense of time is terrible but she still knows me and still hugs me as hard as ever. That's when I really felt back home.

I'll tell about day 2 tomorrow. Sonic, James Bond and the charm of small town life will be featured.

My Trip Home - Day 1, Part 1

I can plan for something different but I always have the same outcome. I can do everything within my power to go to bed early the night before I fly to the US but I always end up too excited and full of anticipation for it to happen. I got to bed at 2:00am and had to get up at 5:00am to be ready for my flight. Gerd had said about 496 times that he and my MIL would be here at 6:30am for him to take me to the airport in Hannover and so getting up at 5:00am would be plenty of time for me to shower, wash my hair, dress and have a bit of alone time with B. So what time did he and my MIL show up? 6:05am. And I was in the bathroom. In my undergarments. Where were my clothes? In the back room on the other side of my apartment. What a great start to my day!

After streaking through the hallway in a mad dash for my clothes I finally shooed them away from B long enough for me to say bye to him and begin my crying and hiccuping jag. It's always the same. I leave for more than...say...four hours and I go into a whining fit. There were kisses and hugs and promises to call each day and to take care of ourselves and reassurances that each of us would be all right and when 6:30 rolled around I dragged myself away and into Gerd's car for the trip to Hannover.

Know how they say the most dangerous part of an airplane trip is the car drive to the airport? Know why they say that? Probably because Gerd once drove someone else to an airport. I'm not saying the man is a bad driver but for shit's sake, did he need to be driving 160kph in commuter traffic? Look, I get the whole Autobahn thing and no speed limits and all that. What I don't get is the idea that you can drive as fast as you want regardless of the weather or flow of traffic or the amount of cars sharing the Autobahn with you. The way to handle a lot of cars is not to insist on maintaining the same speed by weaving in and out of lanes but to slow. the. hell. down. And stop scaring the shit out of me by not realizing that you need to slow the hell down until I'm about to kiss a tail light.

Gerd's insistence that I not miss my plane resulted in me arriving at the airport two hours before my flight. Better to be early though than late so I kindly thanked him and sent his ass back to Magdeburg before he proceeded to yap at me and up my anxiety even more.

I checked in as soon as someone got behind the counter and that left me an hour before I could even go though security to the waiting area for my gate. Too nervous to eat breakfast, I wandered around and around and called B every couple of minutes. I finally had to stop when I realized I was only making him anxious. Eventually they allowed us to go through security and thus began the first leg of my trip to my homeland.

You know how strangers caught in the same place can become a little community within a few minutes? Folks waiting under an awning for rain to stop, people in line to buy tickets, folks stuck in an elevator? This waiting area at the gate was no exception. Within a couple minutes I was happily chatting with a business man from Manchester, England who was flying back home, a German couple who were attempting to fly to Florida - he had been picked in a lottery to get a US Green Card and he was going to show his girlfriend the US in hopes that she'd like it and marry him and move with him to the US - and a German man and his very American daughter who were flying to their home in Connecticut after a visit with his mother. All of us were flying to Amsterdam to connect to flights to carry us elsewhere. We spent our time waiting for our 10:15am flight and the topics were varied and rather enjoyable. That is until one of them - the German man going to Florida - wandered into the duty free shop next to the waiting area and was told by the clerk there that our airplane hadn't even left Amsterdam. This was at 9:55am. Amsterdam is a 50-60 minute flight, depending on the aircraft used. Looks like we're going to be delayed a while.

Most of us had rather lengthy layover - in my case it was about three hours - but others weren't so lucky. As we sat and sat the grumbling started up and not just because we weren't informed by the actual KLM personnel until a good twenty minutes later - we were getting our information from someone who sells booze, cigarettes and perfume - but because they seemed clueless as to when the plane would actually arrive. More time passed and we were informed that those taking the connecting flight to Detroit were shit out of luck as far as that flight went and they'd need to see the transfer desk upon their arrival in Amsterdam. The rest of us? They didn't know if we'd make our connecting flights or not but if you had comfortable running shoes they recommended that you slip them on.

The problem in Amsterdam is passport control to get from the inter-continental side of the airport to the international flights is in one central location and you could either have good luck and breeze though or have bad luck and wish you'd peed first and grabbed a sandwich before getting in the line. I was still okay as far as time went but the guy going to Manchester was cutting it close and the man with his daughter flying to Connecticut was probably screwed as the only flight to New Haven each day was the one he was about to miss. His daughter, who was about 10 years old, was getting anxious. She kept asking her dad how they'd get home and what would they have to do and how would they tell mommy and why did they need to bother to clean the plane after it came in. She didn't need a clean seat or a snack on the plane - she wanted her mommy! Daddy was about to snap so I tried to distract her a little and reassure her that everything would be okay.

Finally our flight arrived and after about 10 minutes they let us board. I think we were all mentally encouraging one another to hurry and sit down and buckle up so we could take off and around 12:10pm we backed away from the gate. We were on a jet so the flight time was projected to be roughly 45-50 minutes and we were advised to check our connecting flights and if we missed ours to go to the transfer desk.

I was still figuring to be okay time-wise and as soon as our plane landed we all ran like freaks to the bus taking us to the main terminal and once we were inside the building, we went into high gear.

Normally I hate escalators. And I don't like those moving sidewalk things either - I stand stock still on them until the end where I try to get off of it without falling and breaking my clumsy neck. That is unless I'm a mile from where I want to be and I'm afraid of missing something very important to me. I didn't just walk along the moving sidewalk - I ran. Okay, I trotted. I wouldn't run if a pack of vampires were behind me, never mind something as comparatively minor as missing a plane. Still, me trotting is an eventful thing and I was determined to get to my gate. Boarding for my plane had already started and my panic was beginning to set in.

All was going well. I was able to trot, pant, and call B all at the same time to let him know there was the slight chance that I may miss my flight and I'd call him back when I knew more. I was feeling pretty confident that all would be well...that is until I had to pee. Bad. I didn't think I could go on so I stopped, peed, washed my hands and got a drink of water in what had to be world record time. There is something to be said for wearing elastic waist trousers while traveling.

Just as I was getting to passport control - and I'd like to thank God and all His chubby little angels that there was no line there - I saw the man bound for Connecticut with his daughter. He told me that as they got the gate, his plane was pulling away. I told him I was sorry but did it quickly as I wasn't going to share his fate.

I made it to the international flight terminal and was thankful to see that for once the gate I wanted wasn't the one at the far end. Boarding had started and I saw folks in line waiting to be quizzed by the screeners. Here's a hint for those of you who may be doing some international traveling in the near future: If you don't want to arouse suspicion, don't show up at the gate sweating and gasping for breath. You'll garner a little extra unwanted attention.

After answering the questions in a way that seemed to please my particular screener - the first one being "What's the matter with you?" - I was allowed to board. I took a moment to switch from my normal shoes to clogs - I always wear clogs on long flights because you can easily remove them and get them back on during the flight - and to call B one last time to say I'd made the flight and I'd call him the next morning to let him know I was in Mississippi.

I made the walk down the jet way to the plane, quickly found my seat, searched for a place in the overhead storage for my carry on bag - and I seem to be the only one in the world who doesn't carry on a bag that's larger than your average 3 year old child - sat down and caught my breath. I still had many hours to go before this day would be over.

Come back tomorrow for part 2 when I meet Uncle Kracker, eat cold cheese, find another reason to hate Lindsay Lohan and am finally reunited with my family.

Okay - Who Missed Me?

I arrived back in Germany yesterday afternoon around 3:15 and there is no doubt that I am glad to be home. And there is no doubt that this is the worst case of jet lag that I have ever had. After twenty-nine straight hours of no sleep, losing an hour in the change to standard time and moving seven hours ahead in time, I'm exhausted, muddled and barely able to function. While deep down I'd like to spend the next twenty-four hours sleep there's no time for that. Instead I'll be spending the next twenty-four hours trying to get back into the routine of my life.

I'll be taking the next few days or even weeks telling you all about my trip to my hometown. NaBloPoMo gets underway on November 1st so why not alleviate the problem of coming up with content than by sucking up a couple weeks telling you about my trip? If I work things out right I can stretch very eventful days into two or three days of posting.

I missed y'all. Now you'll never get rid of me.

Auf Wiedersehen!

Know what I like about the German language? When you say good bye it implies that you'll be seeing everyone again. And that's what this is. I'm going to take a break for 2 1/2 weeks while I visit my family and friends in the US and then you'll be seeing me again.

I've noticed that as time grows shorter my ability to give crap whether things I wanted to get done actually do get done lessens. Example: I didn't get the chance to give my bathtub a good scrubbing. Hey MIL! There's the tub cleaning stuff. Have at it!

I'm pretty well all packed except for the grooming articles I'll need to use in the morning. And I am packing rather light. I'm wearing one pair of khaki trousers and I have a pair of chinos and a pair of jeans packed. I'm planning on buying more trousers while I'm there so I am taking it easy on what I bring. I have a variety of tops, undergarments, jammies and three pair of shoes. That's it! And my knitting stuff. And Lottie, my sock monkey.

There are lots of things planned for this trip besides shopping. It's Homecoming week in my hometown and I'll be there in time to see the parade on Thursday and the game on Friday. My nephew's in the parade as an escort to one of the members of the Homecoming court - in a tuxedo no less - so that alone will be worth the long flight across the Atlantic.

And come the following weekend I'm meeting some girlfriends in Memphis. If any of you happen to be in Memphis that weekend and see a gaggle of thirty and fortysomethings who are laughing very loudly, it'll be us.

I won't be blogging while I'm gone - there's simply no time - but I'll be checking email so if any of y'all want to get a hold of me, send an email. In the meantime there's nearly 900 posts in my archives and a Blogroll that's nearly as long as my arm so feel free to browse. Just remember to lock up when you're done.

I'll be seeing y'all again around the 29th. And there will be pictures. Pencil it in your datebook.

Y'all take care!

Just Yes or No

Do I leave for my trip in less than 48 hours? Yes.

Am I packed? No.

Do I have all the cut up boxes hauled off. Yes. Finally, yes!

Do I have the rest of my apartment picked up, including getting the yarn, knitting needles, and about 40 books put where they belong? No.

Should I be doing that right now instead of sitting here at my computer? Yes.

Am I going to get up now and do it? No. Well, maybe. Oh wait...this is just yes or no. Well then, no.

Did I get all the laundry finished? No, but what's not washed isn't important and can fit in the dirty clothes hamper.

Do I still need to go grocery shopping? Yes.

Did I mess around to day and not get anything done that I was supposed to do? Yes, but I have an excuse! I wanted to spend time with B!

Am I going to run around like a maniac tomorrow and try desperately to get things done? Yes.

Do I do this every time I go on a trip. Yes. It wouldn't be my normal mode of operation if I didn't.

Wish me luck, folks, because I am going to be losing my mind come this time tomorrow.

Friday Shuffle - Final Shuffle Before Vacation Edition

Only a few more blogging days left before I go on my trip to the US. I'd like to say that I'll check in while I'm on my trip but I can't guarantee that I will. I usually only have time to check email and that's it but if I get the chance to pop in, I will.

Until then here a possibly final bulleted list of what's new and random.

• Pre-vacation preparations are coming along well and you wouldn't believe how much laundry I've managed to get done in the last few days. I can't claim I'll have all the clothes washed before I leave town but I'll certainly have everything that B will need to wear, towels and bed linens and of course all the clothes I'm taking with me clean, folded and put away. Now I'm down to things like last minute kitchen and bathroom cleaning, vacuuming, mopping, dusting and the sort. There is light at the end of the tunnel! A few days ago I wasn't even sure I was in a tunnel.
  
  
• I called my mother today and she informed me that my oldest nephew arrived in Iraq yesterday. He's a medic in the Navy but he wanted to specialize in trauma work since that's the sort of rescue work he wants to get into once he's out of the Navy so he volunteered to be attached to a Marine unit. By golly, I guess he'll get his trauma experience. I wish he didn't have to be there. I wish none of our troops were there. I'm so angry that we're there in the first place that I can hardly stand it. And I pray that my nephew stays safe and hope his services are needed as little as possible. And I pray that all of the troops come home soon. Soon like yesterday.
  
  
• On a somewhat lighter note I said to my mother - please let me take a moment to remind everyone that my mother has Alzheimer's - "Well when I get back to Mississippi we'll make him up a nice care package of things he might want or need." and my mother replied "You know, he doesn't have a computer there. I thought we'd put our money together and we'd buy him a computer!".
  
  I believe my mother has mixed up Iraq with Iowa.
  
  
• B has asked me to find some pictures of me from when I was a child/teen and get copies of them to bring back. I'm not sure where those old family photo albums are but I'm thinking that since my sister has moved my mother twice in the last few years, if my mother had them, Sister will know where they are. What I'm afraid of, however, is they didn't get back to my mother having been in my old house in Virginia. While speaking to my mom on the phone today I almost brought up the subject but thought the better of it. I was afraid that the answer would be "That SOB you were married to still has them and blah, blah, blah, blah.". Ugh. Nothing is worth her bringing up my ex around B and I detest it when she does. My mother can't remember what she had for lunch yesterday but by golly she can remember every damn thing my ex-husband ever did to piss her off.

Time for Bixente the iPod to treat us to a final Shuffle. He's going to be staying here to keep B company while I'm gone (read: I'm terrified of losing him on this trip.).

1. Sam's Town - The Killers
2. Turn Me Loose - Vince Gill
3. It's Too Late - Carole King
   
4. Don't Say Goodbye - Radney Foster
5. The First Cut Is The Deepest - Cat Stevens
6. Good Times Bad Times - Led Zeppelin
7. She Moves In Her Own Way - The Kooks
8. Solid Gold Easy Action - The Fratellis
9. Somebody To Love - Queen
10. Rock Lobster - B-52's.

Five more sleeps, y'all.

The Unfamiliar Familiar

I suppose it's a mark of having lived in Germany for a long time that when I go to the US I feel somewhat like I did when I first visited Germany - except I'm already fluent in the predominant language of the US.

When I first visited Germany I nearly gave myself whiplash looking at everything around me that was different. Much of it was language related but some of it was things like how houses are styled and seeing streetcars all over or seeing names of businesses that don't exist in America. Now my eye has become accustomed to how things look here and it's when I come back to the States for a visit that things seem unusual.

When I first arrive in Memphis one of the first things that catches my eye once I leave the airport are the cars. Unless they're a Mercedes or a BMW or a Volkswagen, I probably won't recognize it. We don't have Buicks or Pontiacs or even very many Chevrolets here and what car brands that we do have in common - Fords, Toyota, Nissan and some other - the models are often different than what is sold in Germany. And the size! They all seem impossibly huge! Why are my fellow Americans driving around in their living rooms?

Television is another revelation to me. I'm unfamiliar with most of the programs and what programs they have that are shown in Germany are often a season or two ahead of what's currently being shown here. If I watch one of those Hollywood celeb gossip shows I often don't know the person about whom they're gossiping. I can recognize Oprah when I see her but her hair is different than the last time I watched her show. People reading the news aren't the same and who in the hell is Rachael Ray? And evidently judging by the commercials I watched during my last visit, pharmaceutical companies want you to ask your doctor about writing a prescription for every ailment you may have or have even considered contracting. Some things do stay the same though. They still blow the riverboat whistle sound on WMC-TV during station breaks. If you tell me that after hearing that riverboat whistle sound my whole life they've stopped doing it, I'm going to cry.

When I go to a grocery store to pick up a few things I not only have to re-familiarize myself with the layout of the store itself, I now find that I don't often recognize the packaging. They logos get jazzed up or packages have slightly different colors and it takes me a while to get used to the new look. And the packages themselves. They're [i]huge[/i]! I know we had jumbo packages of stuff when I lived in the US but I'm used to now seeing smaller bags and jars and bottles. I'm simply not used to seeing Cheerios in a box that's bigger than the car I now drive. I'm not even used to seeing Cheerios because they're not sold in Germany. And everything is New! Improved! Low fat! Low carb! All natural! I noticed on the last few jars of Hellmann's that I've bought the label boasts of Hellmann's being a source of Omega 3 & 6. Folks! It's a jar of whipped up egg, oil and seasonings. It's a jar of fat. I don't think the Omega 3 & 6 are going to cancel out the damage the jar of fat is doing to my heart.

But damn if it's not a tasty, tasty jar of fat.

Restaurants, especially fast food ones, are good places to remind me that I'm no longer in Germany. I forget what I consider to be a large drink here is a small or medium there and a large there means "Will be served to you in a bucket.". And the difference in restaurants in the US that I like is getting free refills. And iced tea! Iced tea that didn't come out of a plastic bottles! And not having people right up on you smoking cigarettes!

Even my hometown changes and I fail to recognize things. The last time I was home the big change was a new multiplex theater. I used to have to haul my butt to Tupelo to catch a movie but no longer! Businesses change hands, new neighborhoods are built, roads are rerouted - I sometimes get turned around on a street I've been on a thousand and one times before. Still, a few things don't change. You still get stopped by passing trains. The old men still play checkers in front of the courthouse. And you still can't get into the Wal-Mart on a Saturday morning at 10:30 without getting greased up and using a shoe horn to stuff you in.

I can't wait to start my homeland culture shock.

Pat Yourself on the Back

I'm happy to report that after my meltdown on Monday I'm feeling quite a bit more confident about leaving B next week. I think I needed to get it out of my system and hear a little reassurance from B and others.

I'm not normally someone who worries. I try to live by the idea that a vast majority of things we worry about are either things that won't even happen or things that are completely out of our control and fretting will not make anything better. I also try to live by the idea that we shouldn't borrow trouble. If trouble is coming, it'll come on it's own. I have no need to set out the welcome mat and keep the door unlocked. Trouble comes with a battering ram and a bad attitude.

Thinking over the situation has helped. Not worrying but more or less analyzing what my concerns are and considering if they're valid. Yes, B could very well become sick or hurt but his doctor is available to us at all times - if he were sick enough she could be called at home if necessary. She'll be seeing him the day after I leave and B's dermatologist will see him a few days before I return home so if he's getting a sore it can be looked at easily. I will go over everything with my MIL to refresh her memory of how B's to be looked after. And it's her son. She's certainly not going to neglect him. If she didn't want to take care of him while I'm gone she'd have refused the job months ago when this trip was first considered.

And the comments y'all left? Wonderful. Not only are they kind and encouraging but they remind me that I really do need a vacation. I need some time where I don't have to be available to someone all the time. I need to visit with those I miss and sleep late and go to movies and get a manicure and go shopping and not be consumed with care giving. I love my life and I love to take care of B but I need to rejuvenate or I'm not going to be able to do my best job for him. Thank you all so much for saying exactly what I needed to hear.

So when I get on that plane in a week and I have butterflies in my stomach and a bit of anxiety about leaving B behind for a couple weeks I'm going to remember the words y'all wrote and it's going to help me settle down and be calm. Until the next bout of anxiety flares up, anyway.

You can try it but I don't think you can talk me down from the panic over the creepy airplane food and the crappy in-flight movie.

Why Everyone Should Have a Sock Monkey

Because when you're busy getting ready to take a trip across the Atlantic...



...they can help out with the knitting you need to get finished.

Lottie the Sock Monkey loves to show off her mad knitting skillz.

Dread Has Arrived

I knew it was coming. I knew that as the days before my trip grew shorter it would finally sink it that I'll be away from B for two and a half weeks. And it's not just one of those "I'll miss him so!" sort of things. I definitely will miss him but this time I'm more uncomfortable than ever leaving his care to someone else.

No one takes care of B like I do. I do it perfectly. As close to perfect as one can get anyway. I know how he needs to be turned, I know how his bathroom routine goes, I know how he should be shaved and how he likes his teeth to be brushed. I know how to sit him up correctly and how to arrange his pillows to support him when he's laying on his side.

B's mom will be taking care of him while I'm gone, with the assistance of Gerd, and she was the one who took care of him before I ever came along. I should have no worries at all but things are different now than when I first moved here. B's older and it's easier for him to become ill. And if things aren't done in a certain way he can become injured or get a pressure sore.

Last night as I lay down to sleep I could only think of B being lonesome without me. I could only think of his bathroom routines not being handled just right and him feeling miserable. I could only think of him being uncomfortable and sad and every other thing that could possibly go wrong and I began to panic. My heart beat faster and faster and my breathing became gasps and I started to cry. I couldn't bear the idea of being away from B for two and a half weeks. What was I thinking when I bought a plane ticket?

I couldn't stand it any longer so I grabbed my pillow and moved over to B and put my head up on the bed next to his head. I was waking him up but I was so sad that nothing but being as close to him as possible was going to comfort me.

In the light of day I could be calmer about the situation and I could think more clearly. I know he'll be fine. Probably. His mom will take good enough care of him. Not as well as I do it but it'll hold him for a few weeks. I know I can take this trip and not have a disaster occur but it doesn't stop me having nervous second thoughts. It doesn't damp down the anxiety and worry. Over the years I've become so attached to B and taking care of him that it's hard for me to stop.

Do you mothers go through this? I mean how do you send your kids to grandma's or summer camp if you have these thoughts?

I have to stop wigging out about this. Today I'd start to talk to B about how this anxious feeling is kicking in and I'd start to get weepy again. Me crying upsets him no end so he's doing all he can to reassure me and calm my fears.

It just going to have to be a leap of faith that I take.