Today I was alone in our house for the first time since Gracie was born. I guess if you want to get technical about it, the first time I was ever alone, since I was hugely pregnant with her when we moved in.
It was...weird. I was sort of excited to be able to run on the treadmill, clean the house, and not have to worry the noise from the tready would bother her while she slept, or she'd figure out a way to swallow arsenic while I was wiping down her floorboards. But when Stephen and his mom walked out the door with her, I had a moment of panic. It took everything in me not to squeal, "Ugh, wait wait wait, let me go get dressed, I'm going with you guys!"
Watching her leave is always the hardest part. It's like that when I go to work, too.
After that, it was oddly fine. Just...fine. I didn't slide into the front hallway in my underwear singing a played-out Bob Seger song, but I didn't weep and gnash my teeth by the window, either.
It might even be time to spend the night away from her...