Cindy

Droog

Read Cindy's bio and previous columns

June 30, 2008

I Thought I Missed My Pre-Mom Business Trips, Until I Took One Again

This past week, I traveled solo for the first time since our second son was born.

It was a comedy of errors that made me remember exactly why I don’t miss my former life of work-related jaunts around the continent.

First, I was running late (shocking, I know!) to my hometown airport, which of course is under its largest renovation ever. Clearly, I’ve been living under a rock (actually, a diaper pail) because I had no idea I’d be required to park 10 miles away.

I made it to the gate just in time to catch my first flight, but frankly, it was no use. It didn’t stop the second leg of my trip from being canceled, and the airline from being unable to book me outbound until the next morning.

But I am the determined sort. So, in my infinite wisdom, I rented a car and set off for my destination.

It had been awhile since I’d traversed the U.S./Canadian border, and I’d forgotten that they’re rather serious about this whole security thing these days. I found myself in line for about two hours, fighting the thought that had I just checked into a hotel, I’d be relaxing, watching Swingtown and ordering a glass of wine from room service at the very moment I was stuck in traffic mid-bridge.

I arrived around midnight, just in time to collapse into bed and catch six hours of shuteye before having to get up, don a suit, find my way around a strange city and make a presentation to 100 people.

Just five years ago, that was my norm. In fact, I did it every week. And to be honest, since having kids, I’d romanticized those days in my mind, clearly blocking out the tribulations of business travel, and replacing them only with fond memories of eating sushi on the dock in Vancouver, watching the sun rise on a morning walk on the Jersey shore and taking a few spare hours before flying home from San Antonio to go shopping on the Riverwalk.

Just like any parent, I do have my moments when I miss my “old” life. On Sunday mornings, hubby and I used to belly right up to the counter at our favorite breakfast dive. Now we stand in line and wait for a table that has room for two high chairs.

Of course, I miss Bloody Marys, too, but probably shouldn’t go into details on that.

Still, these moments are both fleeting and few and far between. In fact, they usually only happen when both kids are screaming as loud as they can from their car seats, and I’m driving, unable to soothe them. (One of them screaming barely fazes me. It actually does take the full chorus!)

I always laugh when my friends start to lament how much they miss their free time, probably because – aside from the bar – I drag my oldest son with me to most of the things I used to do. 

Hiking? That’s what those baby backpacks are for. And he loves it. To me, hiking had turned into exercise, and while it’s a good one, I’d forgotten that I took it up because I enjoyed it. That is, until my son learned to talk, and started asking me why a tree was growing sideways, or a bird wouldn’t talk.

Antiquing? A little more difficult with a stroller, but definitely doable, and staring at him while he sleeps and I walk is more interesting than any citywide search for a row of old school gym lockers.

Reading in a lounge chair with a lemonade and vodka? Just remove the vodka, add my son and exchange coming-of-age, deep-thinking characters with dancing hippos. Honestly, it’s more fun to read when the words rhyme anyway. I have a feeling that when he decides he’s too cool for this activity, I’ll switch to poetry instead of novels. 

I guess it took a botched business trip to gently remind me that I wouldn’t go back to being a Bloody-Mary-chugging, stuck-in-airports-making-small-talk-with-strangers, suit-wearing-in-100-degree-weather traveling woman for the entire world. Not even Vancouver.

© 2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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