The Lost Weekend

We're heading for New York tomorrow night, jetblue red-eye then a six hour car trip upstate to attend a little wedding in the woods. I'm beyond excited, to witness the nuptials of dear friends in celebration with a whole bunch of other dear friends who I haven't seen in a while. I'll be surrounded by friends! A comforting thought to one lost in a strange city with a baby and a hubbie, neither of whom help fill my social calendar.
But our poor baby -- the thought has been eating at me for months -- will be spending the weekend at grandpa's. With his baby-loving ladyfriend and D's sister next door, there will be a community of loving arms for Desmond to cry into during our absence. But, cry I'm sure he will. He's a sensitive little one who jumps with delight everytime he sees his father enter a room, who pulls himself up to stand with a devious and proud grin on wobbly bookcases, who gets so tired he doesn't know what to do but cry and giggle at once, who shivers in anticipation whenever I pull out the box of Joe's O's. He's a (heavy! over 21 lbs!) handful. And I feel both guilty for putting my in-laws through three and a half days of back-breaking babysitting and worried worried worried that Desmond will be psychically scarred so thoroughly that all the analysis in Austria wouldn't be enough to cure him of the trauma of a weekend without mommy and daddy.
On the other (saner) hand, I have my dress at the cleaners and the long-lost friends in the wings gearing up the car to pick us up. I can't wait!