This weekend, we are taking the kids to Chicago. Primarily because there is a wrestling show I wanted to go to, but also because Miles has wanted to go to the museums there for years. And it’s kind of nerve wracking.
I’ve been to Chicago twice. The first time I was 17 or 18, and with my friend’s family. The second time was in my mid 20’s with my girlfriend. The first time, there were parental figures to be responsible for everything. The second time, we were just responsible for ourselves, and let’s face it, young, free, and not very responsible anyways. This time though, there are kids involved. And one of them is very very tiny.
There are lots of worries my small-town self has about taking the kids to the third biggest city in the country. Mostly about them getting separated or lost. This is compounded because for most of Friday and Saturday I’ll be doing stuff alone, and Ashes will have both of them. I’m considering leashes, or some sort of GPS implant chip.
I am excited to be going. Very excited actually. But also nervous. If anything goes wrong, it’s on us to fix. No adults to turn to and fix something. That’s a lot of responsibility. Frankly, when you throw the baby in the mix, it might be the biggest responsibility thing I’ve ever done.
I expect everything to go fine and for the weekend to be a great one. But the worry that something/everything goes wrong is never far away.