Let the Countdown begin

Most weeks out of the year, MacTroll packs up a suitcase and tells X-man and I goodbye. He drives down to Willard, checks his bag for free, strolls through security and onto the little American jet planes. He arrives in the G gate area of O'Hare, wanders down to American Airlines' Admiral Club (sometimes when he's going on LONG trips, like to Tokyo, the airline actually sends a little golf cart to pick my non-injured, non-handicapped, non-senior citizen husband up and drive his butt to the fancy club) gets himself a cup of free snacks and a free soft drink and plays games on his iPhone or iChats with his buddies until it's time to jump on his connecting flight -- in business class, with free drinks and free movies. That's what life is like when  you have flown over a million miles with an airline since 2004.

On vacation once, our flight from O'Hare to Miami was late coming in. So we missed our plane from Miami to St. Thomas. It was the last one out for the night. Everyone ran to a customer service desk to try and scramble onto a plane the next day (as not to miss out on vacation time) and to get a room for the night. The line was long... really long. MacTroll whips out his phone and calls the "Executive Platinum Help Desk" and talks to some extremely gracious person who has us booked on a 6 a.m. flight out of Miami and hooks us up with hotel accommodations at a Holiday Inn in less than 10 minutes on the phone. 

I walk away watching the group of angry people mystified by the power of my spouse's 1-800 number.

MacTroll leaves so often, it's no longer a big deal. This morning on his way out to Boston, he didn't even come up for a hug or a kiss. He just shouted, "I'm going now." So I told him to have a good time and that I'd hug the X-man for him -- lots.

Next Friday, in 10 days, I'll be getting on a plane by myself. MacTroll will have 4 days of uninterrupted single parenthood. He'll get to push X-man in a grocery cart and sing the Bob the Builder song and give the hugs and kiss the boo boos and do all the stuff that X-man won't let MacTroll do when I'm around.

Where am I going, do you ask? I'm going where I always go. I'm going to Canada. I'm going to Montreal. I'm going to the W Hotel. I'm checking in by myself. I'm sleeping in every morning. I'm eating whatever I want. And I'm spending 4 days NOT being covered in ketchup finger prints or watermelon juice. I'm going to wear my contacts and blow dry my hair. I'm going to walk everywhere and not have any one grabbing me or touching me or pinching me. I'm not going to change a single diaper, cut anyone's food but my own or watch children's television. 

I'm going to sit in a bookstore with my iced coffee and watch the people on the street below. I'm going to visit the Insectarium and look for a cool gift for X-man. I'm going to look into buying him some back to school clothes at Souris Mini and Roots. I might even take in a movie in French with NO English subtitles. 

I'm going to read a book. I might even go to the International Fireworks Competition.

And after 48 hours, I'm going to get completely homesick. I'm going to get excited to take the cab back to the airport, get on the plane in the cattle car, not have any free drinks or watch any movies. I'm going to avoid extra checked bag fees, if possible, by taking few liquid products. I'll end up sitting on the floor waiting for my plane to Champaign in the G gates, because there are always never enough chairs and it's always running late. I won't have an iPhone for my constant enjoyment. 

When I get home, it'll be just before X-man's bedtime, that is, if the plane is on time. I'm going to hug MacTroll and cover X-man in kisses and get ready for another several months of being a marathon mom.