Trepidation

 The other day I was telling somebody about my fast-approaching trip to Haiti, and nervously wondering aloud about what we would be eating.

"Why don't you take your crockpot?" she suggested.  "That way, you can cook your own food."

Yeah.  Great idea. Only THERE AREN'T ANY PLUGS, STUPID.   OR STORES TO BUY FOOD. Not to mention that it wouldn't fit in my backpack that I will be toting 2 miles up a mountain.  Actually, I think it's down a mountain on the way in.  The way out is up the mountain.  A parting gift.

Seriously, what in tarnation am I doing, taking off to Haiti for nine days?? Why did camping in a tent, eating nothing but  rice and beans and working my tail off for 12 hours a day in 95 degree heat with 10,000% humidity EVER sound like a great idea?  Did I think about how hard it was going to be to leave my kids for that long?  Did I realize it was Halloween?

Whose idea was this anyway?  Who talked me into this?

Oh yeah.  The same doofus who talked me into going skydiving with him last year, that's who.

WHY does he have to do that to me all the time?  Why can't he just leave me alone?

Never mind that skydiving was awesome, and probably the most exciting thing I've ever done.  It was also scary and expensive, much like traveling to Haiti is going to be.  And skydiving was over in like, 30 seconds.   And I only had one night of sleepless worrying about all the different skydiving scenarios that could end in my demise. This time, it's a nine day run, AND I've had four months to stew over everything that might go wrong. And there is a LOT more stuff to pack.

My kids have asked me 16 times each what day I am leaving, how long I am going for, and am I really going to miss Halloween.  What kind of rotten mother leaves her kids over Halloween?

At this point, the only way out is through.  When I went skydiving, in spite of all the internal kicking and screaming that was taking place in my head,  the second that my feet left the plane, I knew it was going to be great.

Here's hoping.