…so I’m on a plane…
And to make it even more fun, my flight doesn’t land in Atlanta until 11:50 tonight.
I have a few worries. First, the whole finding my hotel part scares the bajeebuz outta me. I don’t land in Atlanta until 11:50. I have to pick up my bag, find the subway, get off at the right station, and walk a few blocks to the hotel. Late. In the dark. By myself. In a weird city. With my bags. Did I mention it’d be past midnight???
Second, I was worried about getting through airport security with my pump. I didn’t particularly want to explain what it was to the poor unassuming security guy. But I have to admit that the contents of my little black backpack (that was inside my other backpack) looked slightly… awkward? interesting? potentially hazardous??? I think, though, that he was embarrassed enough about it that he didn’t want to know any more. Problem solved.
Lastly… You know that scene from one of the Harry Potter movies when Harry blows up his aunt? Buttons were flying, the pearl necklace snaps off, and nylons started running? Well… I have this fear of taking out my boss (or some other unexpecting attorney) with buttons from my shirt as a result of my exploding bosom. I had to re-plan my attire to work around the possible lack of time this weekend to pump. Button-less sweaters were a must.
Worst, though? I don’t get to wake up to this little face.
I haven’t been away from her overnight since she came home from the NICU. New territory, for sure. Mom’s taking her tonight and tomorrow through Luke’s work day, then Luke will have her by himself Friday night and Saturday until I get home. And since I haven’t been away since she was in the hospital, he hasn’t had her by himself overnight, either.
She does sleep well, just gets up early.
My luck, she’ll sleep in for the first time, and won’t repeat it for another year and a half. She does love her daddy like that…