I have to leave my baby. Overnight. For the first time, ever.
It really shouldn't be that big of a deal. After all, I'm leaving him with his father, and it will be for less than 24 hours.* But that's about 12 hours longer than I've ever been away from him in his life. And I'm freaking out, wondering how I got myself into this in the first place. I have actually wondered (briefly, I promise) what would happen if I cancelled at the last minute and didn't go, so I could spend time with my son and my husband.
But then, I would be letting down nine wonderful children. See, I'm directing this children's gypsy group, and we are joining the adult gypsy group at their training camp thingy that they do every year. For the adults, it's like boot camp and drama camp all mashed into one crazy four-day weekend. For the kids, it's an overnight stay so they can get to know one another, create their characters, and participate in a bonfire and a church service.
Cue panic attack number two: I am going to be in charge of nine children, ranging in age from seven to fourteen, for nineteen whole hours. I am insane.
Someone bring me a paper bag. Or some valium. :)
*19 hours, actually. I hate to seem like one of those dramatic people who actually counted the hours, but well, I did. :(