Tomorrow I join the throngs of female bloggers leaving their kids for the weekend. Only I am heading in the opposite direction from Blogher, as far away as I can get, really, as I am going to LA for a great and old friend’s wedding.

Alone.

This will be my first time away on my own since becoming a mom.

I am freaking out.

Just a little.

Yeah, other than when I was in the hospital having Robby, and Sam stayed with my parents, this is the only overnight I’ve ever had. And really, birthing the second hardly counts, right? Other than that, the longest time I have ever been away was back when I went to Blogher DC for the day, and we all remember how that turned out. And that was only a day.

This time around I am going out with a real bang. I’ll be away for not one, but TWO nights. About 55 hours. Holy schmoley.

Of course I’m excited. I mean, the 6 hour flight alone sounds almost heavenly. When was the last time I was able to sit for that long and read, only to be interrupted by someone offering me snacks and drinks? How many times have I been on a plane with my two, trying desperately to entertain them before we’ve even left the ground, looking across the aisle at the person who is able to sit and peacefully leaf through a magazine or listen to earphones, and wish it could be me? It sounds amazing.

And that’s all before I even reach sunny California, where there is a high of 75 and no clouds this weekend. It’s before I get to my cushy room in the hotel where the reception is being held, because, oh yes, you can bet I decided to swing for the swanky hotel on the bay for my first weekend away. You can bet I will have a king sized bed. All. To. My. Self.

I will order room service at least once.

I will leave the Do Not Disturb sign on the door indefinitely.

I will sit in quiet and watch my friend get married.

I will drink, knowing I can just stumble walk upstairs when I am done.

I will dancedancedance.

I will sleep late and manage to take up all of that king bed.

I will think to myself, “Oh, this room is so quiet.”

But all that doesn’t change the fact that I have felt a growing apprehension for the past few weeks. In the back of my mind, I have just felt something is a bit amiss; something a little scary has been lurking. And I know it’s all crazy talk. I know that.

But I also know that at many points through the weekend I’ll be afraid one of the children will be hurt, or sick, and I’ll be on the other side of the country, unable to get to them.

Or something will happen to me.

Or they’ll wake up in the night and be upset that I am not there.

Or someone will call for Mommy, and I won’t be there.

Or that, at some point, I’ll sit in that room and think, “Oh, this room is so quiet . . .”

Well, I guess I’ll go start packing . . .

How many books do you think I can devour with 12 hours of flying time and a quiet room for a weekend?