On the upside, I learned that the Backstreet Boys Pandora station is pretty awesome.

Yesterday I went to Richmond for a friend's baby shower, and I stayed the night. Without Lorelai. For the first time. And I had fun with my friends, I really did. And the whole trip was so much better/easier than it would have been if I'd had her with me. But oh, did I miss her.

I knew she would be fine, and that Kevin would be fine. I micromanaged as much as I could by prepping all her meals and diapers and his diaper bag and everything else I could possibly do, and luckily he is a wonderful, understanding man and knew that I wasn't doing it because I didn't trust him to be able to do it, but because I needed to do it for my own sanity. And he didn't give me grief about being such a control freak.

He sent me lots of pictures, and they went over to his parents' house to hang out and got back a little later than her normal bedtime, which was actually good because of the time change, and they had a very normal night in terms of wakeups and feedings.

I never sleep too well away from home anyway, and my hyperawareness at being away from Lorelai kept me awake even more than normal. When I did fall asleep, I had trouble staying asleep for very long. Around 4:45 a.m., I heard a noise downstairs that I think was Hayley's boyfriend coming home and locking the front door, but somehow I became convinced that it was 30-weeks-pregnant Shannon (who was sleeping on the couch downstairs because she said it was more comfortable than the guest bed -- and she was right) falling while trying to come upstairs to go to the bathroom. I climbed out of bed, went into the hall, reassured myself that Shannon was not, in fact, lying at the bottom of the steps in a heap of preterm labor, figured I may as well pee since I was up anyway, and then had such a hard time getting back to sleep that I almost just packed up and came home at 5 a.m. (I didn't mostly because I knew that getting all my crap together to leave would wake Shannon up, and I wasn't about to stand between a pregnant woman and her sleep because I've been there and you just don't do that).

So I didn't sleep much (which is fine, because, you know, I'm used to it after eight months of motherhood). And I flew home, making the trip in record time (because, um, there was no traffic at all and, uh, because the time change messed with the space-time continuum and made time move slower or faster or something -- not because I was speeding or anything, HI MOM) and met up with Kevin at Wendy's before his theatre board meeting so I could pick up Lorelai.

He pulled up right as I was about to head inside to go to the bathroom, because I REALLY had to pee, but I threw that idea aside and ran to get my baby girl out of her car seat and was greeted with a giant grin, a great big baby kiss (unprompted! She gives kisses if I ask for them but I've never gotten one without asking), and lots of squeals and cute baby noises.

That smile and kiss and those squeals of delight were almost enough to make me want to do another overnight soon just so I can have a repeat reunion.

Almost. But not quite.