On the advice of the doctor who manages my body above my bellybutton and below my booty, I am seeing a dermatologist in a few weeks.

When I called to make the appointment, I was put on hold. Instead of music, I was treated to a velvety, but authoritative, feminine voice:

“Nothing ages a woman faster than a ghastly neck. Are you tormented by your own ghastly neck? Our doctors and technicians are here to help. With the patented LaserForkUltra, we can drastically improve your ghastly neck in under a dozen office visits. Ask about financing.”

Then about ten seconds of hold music jazz.

“Are your lips a shameful embarrassment? Do you find yourself afraid to live an active lifestyle because of underwhelming and most definitely askew lips? We provide friendly and discreet mouth-sculpting technology in the form of not unpainful pasteurized thermal lipil porcine-based injections. Bring the laughter and love back again. Banish the shame. Ask about financing.”

Then about ten seconds of hold music jazz.

“What are those holes on your forehead? Admit it. You’ve been asked this question by many people, including curious bystanders and your coworkers. Your pores are like the gaping maws of demonic harpies. We understand. Our doctors offer a wide range of pore-minimizing services, incuding Acid Scythe. Seen on Oprah and the pages of InTouch magazine, Acid Scythe is a celebrity secret now available to the general public. Formulated from the foreskins of yearling Angora free-range goats, it is the very least you can do for your skin. No goats are harmed in the manufacture or distribution of Acid Scythe, except for their penises. Ask about financing.”

As I listened to these messages of hope and refurbishing, I began to feel self-conscious. When I am cowering in my little paper dress, giving the doctor access to my iffy moles, will she be thinking about my tragic neck, my yodeling pores, my reed-thin lips? What ever happened to dermatologists simply being experts in zits and moles and rashes? Now they want to put acid on faces, inject goo into wrinkles, lift and hoist and buff and burn all that is a little worn.

I’m going to need a dermatologist before I go to the dermatologist.

My first baby is flying solo today. She’s an unaccompanied minor, cruising at a ridiculous altitude toward her grandparents’ city 450 miles away.

Aidan’s school has two spring breaks. I never got two spring breaks? Did you?

Anyway, she decided it would be lovely to spend Spring Break II with her paternal grandparents. She spent her week-long Fall Break with my parents, so it only made sense for her to spread granddaughterly sunshine in equal parts. She invited herself both times, and all four grandparents graciously accepted.

My husband and I were left with the small detail of figuring out how to get her to her vacation destination this time. Because they live a good day’s drive away, we thought about meeting them in a small city about halfway in between. Round trip, it would require about 8 hours and a full tank of gas. Rinse, repeat next weekend. It would be ridiculously expensive, plus time consuming.

Airfares right now are lower than the cost of a couple of tanks of gasoline, we realized. A round-trip ticket on Southwest was very reasonable, so we decided to buy a ticket for her and send her off into the wild blue yonder. She’s nearing eleven years old and is mature and and a good kid. We’d give her this adventure.

Aidan was ecstatic when we told her of our plan. She literally counted down the days, plotted her packing, weighed airplane reading materials to take, obsessed over snack availability during the 1 hour 20 minute flight, and dreamed of fun things to do in the sunnier-than-ours spot.

The airline was able to assure us they’d take good care of her. My husband took her to the airport this morning. He had to fill out reams of paperwork and was allowed to go with her all the way to the gate, even through security. They tagged her. She will sit in the front. He won’t leave until she is in the air. Upon arrival, the flight attendant will take her off the plane and turn her over to my in-laws, who will be allowed to meet her at the gate as long as they provide the same information and IDs we indicated they would.

They won’t just turn her over to any random person standing around the gate.

She’ll be gone for a whole week.

It will be quiet around here, except for the thumping of my heart while she’s in the air, almost unaccompanied.

UPDATE 12:17 pm The Forgotten Time Zone Daylight Time (TFTZDT): My husband just called. He wasn’t allowed to leave the gate until she was in the air. She is. Just now. I burst into tears!? I can think of a zillion reasons why. I didn’t think it would be this hard. It’s like the first day of Kindergarten. Small steps out our door, with bigger events and challenges building upon each other as time flies by…

UPDATE 1:21 pm TFTZDT: She’s on the ground, safe and sound. My husband just talked to my father-in-law and Aidan. She had a great flight. With snacks!

I tracked her flight using Flightstats, which allowed me to see EXACTLY where she was on a Google Earth map, including her longitude, latitude, air speed (450 MPH! bestillmyheart), altitude, bearing, etc. It was cool and comforting to watch her progress.