I will admit

I am a wuss.
My parents, who I still call Mammy and Daddy, are away on their holliers this week. They have gone to Rome to see the Pope. (I have asked them to give him a bad look and shake their heads disapprovingly - I don't think they will).
Now the thing is my parents deserve a break. And they love Rome. And for my mammy is particular this is an important trip as she is accompanying her mammy, and assorted other family members, to Mass on Easter Sunday in the Vatican and while my mother isn't a touch religious, her mammy is very much so.
Daddy - a keen photographer with a love of history ("Grandad wants all the knowledge in the world to himself" according to Joseph) just loves the ambiance of Italy.
So, fair play to them. I hope they have a lovely time.
But I miss them. And I get a little anxious when they go away. (When I say a  *little* there was this one time when I had a complete mental breakdown when my mammy went to Bundoran for the weekend but the circumstances were exceptional).
They are back on Wednesday and I'm already counting down the days.
It gives me hope that my children will always kind of need me and I won't be a discarded mammy once they reach adulthood and frig off to make their own lives.