In bed

I've started sleeping with someone else. Someone I knew I would eventually come to know intimately but kind of assumed our meeting would happen further down the line. I am in bed with a devil named Guilt. You're a mother? Well then I'm sure you know this companion well.

I am leaving my baby. I am abandoning my heart, my love, my raison d'etre. And a part of me is happy that I am leaving. Enter Mr. Guilt.

Off to Paris for a few days to sort out the stuff I have left in my old apartment. The main "stuff" being the child's bed I bought for my prison sized room, the first big piece of furniture that I purchased with my own money when I was 22 years old with my future children in mind.

The original plan was for Eloise to come with me, but due to a passport snafu she's not ready for international travel just yet. I know my heart is going to break at waking up Saturday morning and not being able to see her Oh My GOSH - It's YOU again!!! face.

What am I thinking leaving this kid?

Yet I am also looking forward to having more than one glass of wine, to not smelling of milk vomit, to wearing perfume and unsensible shoes, to sleeping in. And of course I am full of guilt at having these feelings. Most of all I look forward to seeing her again.

Wish me luck. More importantly wish Eloise's father luck.