Another weekend, another trip away from my baby girl.

This time, I’m off to Las Vegas for a mix of work and (PG-rated) pleasure. Considering I just recently got back from four days in Boston, I’m becoming an old pro at saying goodbye to L for a few days. That said, folks, let me assure you—the whole going away thing hasn’t gotten any easier.

In preparation for the inevitable separation angst, I hogged L for most of Thursday afternoon. We listened to Paul Simon. We stared at her new Orca mobile (thanks, Barbara and Jeff!). We even schlepped to buy Powergirl provisions for the next few days.

Our afternoon was a win-win for everybody: I got to hang with the baby, the baby got to hang with me, and Powergirl had time to give herself a pedicure, take a nap and go the gym.

Still, every time I thought about not seeing L for 54 hours this weekend, I got teary.

Like last time, I keep thinking about everything I’ll miss. The kid is sitting up like a maniac these days—by the time I get back Sunday night, she could practically be walking. I feel like her first word is imminent as well; if I missed that, I don’t think I ever could forgive myself.

The more I grapple with these pangs of anxiety, the more I wonder how other parents go right back to business-as-usual after a baby arrives. Athletes do it all the time. So do CEOs, and other freelance travel writers. Am I just soft? If so, does my “softness” mean I’m somehow less of a professional?

I wonder at what point—if ever—I’ll be able to hit the road without battling these emotions. Hopefully, I’ll get there before L graduates high school. That was only sort of a joke.