In a few short hours, I'll be in New York City, walking the same streets as Annie, Godzilla and several destructive alien species.

If you're in The Big Apple this weekend and want to come see me, I'll be reading Porkrotica: 50 Plates of Bacon at Baconpalooza, an autism fundraiser in Soho. The reading takes place on Sunday, but it's an all-weekend event and I encourage you to go and gorge yourself on greasy food things whenever you can get there.

Go.

Do it.

For autism.

Calories don't count if it's for autism.

Here's a confession for you before I try and fail to sleep: I'll be gone for four days--

No, that's not the confession. Seriously. Stop interrupting me in my head and let me finish:

I'll be gone for four days and this will be my longest time away from my family. Ever. In sixteen years of parenting, I've never been gone more than a couple of days - and that includes hospital stays and anytime I've jumped in my car, overwhelmed and teary and disheveled, driving toward the airport with my passport and a resort pamphlet clutched in a shaking hand.

(I always turn around after I hit the coffee drive-through down the road. I refer to these moments as mini-staycations. They help my brain gather up the remnants of sanity.)

So this is it: my big moment. My time to go be a grownup and an author and a person who can eat as much bacon as she wants and not have to share it with her kids. You know, for autism.

The gremlins will be fine. Sure, Spawnling admitted he took some of my clothes out of the suitcase and hugged them because he's going to miss me so much, but that only made me feel like an asshole for about 3 hours.  And sure, we got an offer on our house and will find out this weekend if the prospective buyers will become actual buyers - and I won't be here for that - but then no one has to deal with my nervous pacing. That's very kind and purely unintentional timing on my part.

Geekster has plans for a "boys weekend" filled with movies and junk food and late nights and possibly dancing girls (The latter is pure speculation on my part. But I left a fiver on my desk and if it's gone when I get home, I'll know, boys. I'll know.). Meanwhile, I'm going to be touring the greatest city on earth with my road trip buddy Robyn.

And I'm not going to miss my family. Not one bit.

In fact, I'm totally not tearing up right now as I think about Spawnling preemptively missing me so much that he has to hug my fucking dress pants.

Nope. No tears, because I'm an independent business woman and writer who's been asked to read at a fundraiser. I'll be too busy networking to be sad. That's what independent women do, you know. We travel and network and shit. We don't get sad about this stuff.

Except when we have to re-fold the dress pants. Then we get a tiny bit sad.

Every now and then I'm reminded that the gremlins aren't the only ones doing some growing up around here.