I choose being here

A friend is having a fabulous 40th birthday getaway in a few months. It involves a short flight and a drive and some fabulous scenery and an overnight stay at a great house. Guests are making their plans for flying in from all over the place and it looks like a really good time. I started doing the mental gymnastics needed to figure out how to pay for the plane ticket, and checking my husband's schedule for whether he's in town that weekend, and scheming who would watch my kids if he's not and then I stopped. I'll be sending my regrets. It's not the money, or the schedule, or even childcare, really, that is keeping me away. Those things can be worked out. It's this person right here. He has spent every night of his short 20 months firmly tucked in against my side and nursing when he wakes before drifting off to sleep again. There was a time when his Beema could get him to sleep the first time, but even then, I was the one he wanted when he woke again.