“But why do you have to go now??”
“I don’t want you to go!”
“But we need you here!”

All things my family has said to me—in the last 24 hours.
This is the same family, mind you, who just three nights ago mysteriously lost their hearing when I asked what they wanted for dinner. And the same crew who groans like tortured souls when I say the terrifying words: “Brush your teeth.” Or worse… “Take a shower.”

Ah, balance.

I used to travel all the time. I had airline status so elite, I practically had my own parking space in first class. I knew the airport terminal better than my own living room layout. But those days are long gone—now it’s one quarterly trip for work, if that.

Back then, a pre-travel weekend was an Olympic sport. Saturday and Sunday were dedicated to prepping like I was going off-grid for a month: snacks portioned, formula measured, dinners prepped, laundry folded, lunchboxes loaded, and the house sparkling. You’d think I was deploying overseas, not catching a 7am Monday flight to Chicago.

I’d leave the house with sloppy kisses and teary goodbyes. But mostly no drama. “Mommy will be back in a couple days—and yes, I’ll bring you something fun.”

Well… except that one time.
C was so distraught about me leaving, she was full-on sobbing as I tried to walk out the door. I came this close to canceling my flight and emailing, “Sorry, I won’t make that meeting.” Instead, I peeled her surprisingly strong arms from my neck, gave one last hug, and bolted—only to get to the car and realize I forgot my coat. I was flying to Boston. In December. That was a cold lesson in maternal guilt and poor planning.

These days, though? The vibe is different.

Now, I travel more for leisure than business. I’ve swapped out Marriott points for stretchy pants and a two-minute commute. And the prepping? Ha. We’re down to one strategic grocery run to stock up on everyone’s favorite snacks and easy dinners. That’s it. No laminated schedules. No step-by-step meal plans. No to-do lists taped to the fridge like a military operation.

They know what they need. The calendar keeps us all honest. And if they don’t want to buy school lunch? Well, guess they are  packing it themselves! 

And those “sloppy kisses”? They’ve evolved into giant, lingering hugs no one wants to let go of. They FaceTime me to tell me all about their day—and also to tattle on each other with full dramatic flair.

If I’m being honest with my five-years-ago self, I’d admit that all that prep? It wasn’t really for them. It was for me.
Sure, the nanny could handle formula and backpack logistics. But the prepping gave me a sense of control. A distraction from the guilt. It helped me focus on work without spiraling into “did I pack enough snacks?” anxiety. It was how I mentally walked through TSA PreCheck without falling apart emotionally.

But now? I’ve let that go.

This morning, I tossed a pork roast in the crockpot, hugged everyone goodbye, and walked out the door. No tears. No checklist. Just a calm confidence that they’ve got this—and I do too.

I know C will call me five times tonight. A won’t call, but he’ll yell stories at the phone like he’s at a press conference. And when I walk back through that door in a few days, he’ll be the first one to greet me, arms wide open.

These days, I’m lucky—I don’t have to chase Platinum status or rack up miles. But I do have a solid support system, and more importantly, I’ve learned to give myself a little grace.

Travel is part of the job sometimes. So take the help. Let it be imperfect. And grab the extra piece of avocado toast from the Admirals Club—guilt-free.