So my photographically nerdy husband and I are 13 days away from our exciting and kid-free  western adventure.  I suppose I should buckle down on the ‘training’, eh?

We are not flying out together.  Deliberately.  And we’re not flying back together either because he will be working and I’ll be coming home 2 days earlier.

Maybe it’s a little bit morbid, but planes crash, and I’d like to feel that we’re splitting our odds.  We actually borrowed the idea from friends who never fly together (unless they’re flying as a family.)  Honestly, knowing that if I die in a firey ball of flame my kids will probably still have their daddy is creepy, yet comforting. 

Now admittedly, we drive separate cars and the odds of something happening then are much higher (which is why Henry is still rear-facing at almost 16 months, but that’s another topic entirely).  I can’t really control the fact that I need to drive sometimes to get where I’m going.  I can’t control the plane, but I can kinda control that the husband will not be on it with me.  (Now if only I could control my husband…)

Also, I must confess that a few hours totally alone with no arguable responsibilities sounds positively decadent.  Nothing feels like the start of a vacation like time to read, meditate or play angry birds.  I honestly imagine myself landing in Vegas less stressed out than I would be flying with my husband. 

It’s hard to let go of the feeling of responsibility for others.  When we go to Target to run a simple errand as a family I’m always checking to make sure he has his keys, wallet, cell phone and sunglasses before we leave.  Traveling together I’d be trying to keep track of his carry-ons and mine.  I’d be checking to be sure he has enough pretzles or salted peanuts; do they even serve those on planes anymore?  I would be trying to make sure he was having a good time on the flight, he’s 6’1″ and he really likes his personal space, so no- he’s not having a good time.  But I’d be stressing about it all no matter what.

When he’s at work I don’t worry about what he’s forgotten, or whether or not he’s grumpy.  For some reason he can manage his own crap when he’s alone, but when he’s with me I have to take over.  Totally my fault, not his.

So we’re not flying together.  Because what are the odds that both planes will crash?  (If they do, please play the lottery.)  But also, because then we can both relax and let go of the stress in our normal lives so we can enjoy our vacation together.  Besides who doesn’t like an little airport reunion?!  It’s totally romantic- just ask Harry (or Sally). 

This is our first flight as parents (luckily the kids are staying home).  I wonder if we will enjoy flying separately as much as I think we might?  I wonder if we’ll continue to travel this way?