Home is where the heart is….

I’m baaaaack.  I just took an amazing four day trip to NYC without Will.  Dropping him at daycare last Thursday morning was a challenge and many tears were shed – by me not him.  By the time I hit the airport I was ogling other people’s kids and thanking god they weren’t with me.

The trip itself was f-a-b and relaxing.  The Josh Ritter show and the company at it were both amazing.  Did some shopping (if you ever go looking for Curious George at FAO Shwartz…he ain’t there).  Hung out with friends – shopped some more.  I came back Sunday night in time for a party at a friends place and then picked up Will, slightly hungover…again me, not him, on Monday morning. 

He could give a rats ass that I was gone (as you can see from this picture).

 Apparently, every plane that flew over head had ‘mommy’ in it.  It actually made me feel good that he was so happy with his aunt and cousin – although a part of me could have used some tears when I left.

I did notice an interesting thing coming back though.

I’ve lived in many, many houses.  I grew up in Montreal (2 houses), moved to London, Ottawa and Toronto (4 houses).  Went to University in Nova Scotia (3 houses) and since living on my own, I’ve lived in 5 more houses around Toronto.  That’s a crap load of addresses.

When I got back to my house on Sunday – I unpacked and went out.  After I picked up Will on Monday, I got home.  I kid you not, it was a feeling that I’ve never experienced before.  I was home.  I realized that from now on, home wasn’t one of the 400 addresses I’ve had, it’s where my son is, where we are together, where ever the hell that ends up being.

I never really like coming back to my house after an awesome vacation – but coming home…that was pretty kick-ass.