It was a bold move, deciding to leave my four-year-old at home with his father for two weeks while I flew to London, the other side of the world. I didn’t take it lightly and kept thinking of all the things he would miss out on and be thrilled to see. Bright red double-decker buses, The London Eye, The Tower of London, the Natural history Museum. London has a plethora of incredible awe-inspiring things to see and do, none of which we have in NZ of any similarity. My four-year-old is bright and willing to learn, eager to know about everything around him. London is the perfect platform for him to discover and gain knowledge of the world. But I have a bit of work to do in London, so I had to make the decision to leave him and concentrate on what I am needed for in London this time. My one-year-old was coming with me though, how on earth could I leave both of them behind! Until I realized what I was potentially doing. Work, one-year-old baby. They, unfortunately, don’t live in the same sentence. So now I about to embark on a wild trip to the other side of the world, by myself, without my family, ALONE.

I am away for two weeks, and given that I have spent every day with my 1-year-old since he was born, this will be quite a jump from the usual routine. I can’t say my mother or mother in law are thrilled, as they will be stepping in to help out, but I am so thankful that they are. What I pray, is that the time for them is special, not exhausting.

I can’t seem to shake the mummy Guilt though, which creeps up onto my shoulder every time I get a tiny wee bit excited about going. I have also started to look at my children with fresh eyes, giving them extra cuddles, kissing their forehead frequently and taking deep sighs as I gaze at them adoringly. It would be different if it was only a day or two, but two weeks! What was I thinking!

I guess I am wondering if anyone else has been as wildly reckless as I have, and also left their children for a long period of time.

I have met two mummies, since booking, who have been on similar escapades. One, for a family wedding, and another to see family. Both of them relayed how incredible the experience was. Their stories, though, have done nothing to appease the ill feeling inside my stomach, especially as I near the day of departure. That ominous day.

My biggest fear is how my boys will cope without me. My one and a half year old hasn’t spent a day without me, in fact, a few hours away from him is a big deal for me. My four-year-old is more independent but a deep thinker and feeler- unfortunately, he gets this from me!

Then there is my husband, who is being left, by me, with my two children. I know what it’s like when he isn’t around, and I feel terrible I am making him do it alone.

Being away from my family for such a long time is worrying me. I am not only getting up to my one-year-old at 5am in the morning, but now also at 1 or 2am with thoughts about the trip racing through my head. When I was 5 or 6 my father flew to the South Island for a couple of weeks. I have vivid memories of being so upset that I climbed to the top of a pernicious building and stayed, crying, until a limber teacher pulled me down. I don’t want that to be my four-year-old.

I am so tired, and I can’t seem to shake it, but the tiredness has been there well before my recent midnight galavants. It is a huge flight, but when the destination is reached there will be a bed waiting which doesn’t have an alarm which goes off at 5 am and keeps going until I get up for cuddles and playtime. Sleeping when I want and for as long as I want is something every mother longs for, shunning other mums if they even begin to boast about their young child’s wonderful sleep habits. The sleep I may get over the next couple of weeks is one thing that is drawing me towards actually getting on that plane, and not ringing the airline to cancel. But at this point, the hope of sleep may be the only point I’m giving this silly idea of mine.

I have a deep case of mummy guilt. Am I giving the best to my child? At all times? No, definitely not. But that is probably because I am not perfect, and no mother is. Am I trying my best? Yep. Tomorrow I am about to embark on a trip of a lifetime, many mummies only dream of, I know I definitely have. Do I feel like an awesome mother right now? No, in fact the opposite. But I can’t let my own insecurities do me over. My boys will miss me, I will miss them. And when I am back, I will be present, fully aware, fully available. No, still not the perfect mother. But a mummy who couldn’t love her two boys any more (or I may just burst)! And I will come back, and I will hold them in my arms tightly, smell their hair, and kiss them on their forehead until they tell me to stop.