Flying Solo

I leave Shanghai for a week in the states this afternoon. And I leave this mess of a house in the nervous hands of my sweet, overwhelmed husband and our entirely capable ayi. Something apparently caught fire in the dishwasher; the Pest Control Company will return tomorrow to avenge any leftover cockroaches; the remote control for the DVD player comes straight from the cartoons - actions have nothing to do with the button pressed, and I keep expecting the windows to open or the toilet to flush when I press a new button. Oh, and Sophia has given up her nap... about half a year too early.

I am not nervous to leave them. Everything will be fine - or at least, no worse than if I were here to manage it myself.

I am not nervous to visit the states. On the contrary, I am so excited. Excited to spend time with my family, sleep in a house without cockroaches, and go shopping. Excited to spend plenty of time with my good friend Michelle, and to share the joy of her wedding on Saturday. Excited to see a few close friends from church, and to meet their brand new babies. Excited to get a haircut.

Wildly excited that I fly back in Business Class. Whoo-hoo!

The only thing that makes me nervous is this initial flight, in coach. I've flown 14 hour flights plenty of times before. I know they're not fun, but that they're over eventually. I know that from flying with two children, and trying to convince them of that very fact. But flying alone? Who will I have to amuse and distract (and to amuse and distract me)? Who will I have to cajole to sleep? This flight will yawn on interminably without any preschoolers to keep me busy!