Separation Anxiety

I really don't want a near-death experience any time soon, or at all, but I am beginning to wonder what else might force me to start enjoying my life more. Lately, every decision and every situation feels like a tug of war to some degree--physically, emotionally, mentally, or all of the above. Just tonight, my daughter embarked on her first sleepover. She was going to a home that is practically our second home, where the friends treat us more like family. I have, several times, slept there with her. But begrudgingly, as I am not entirely fond of sleepovers (I really don't see the point, since not much sleep actually happens, and in my experience, the kids are nothing but ornery the following day, and the adults are left to deal with this temperament--but that is a subject for another blog entry--or maybe not). This time, when the mother and son invited my daughter, I said, firmly and without hesitation, "No sleepover. You can have dinner, watch a movie, but no sleepover." Then the begging ensued, to which I replied, "Okay, but I'm not staying. If you want a sleepover, you go by yourself." She agreed. And I was shocked. Which is why I sit on my couch at this very moment, watching the clock, checking my phone, awaiting a call, beckoning me to the home to pick up my daughter and bring her back to her own bed, where she will sleep. It is now 12:09. And I worry if she is sleeping yet, and how many hours she will sleep, and did she eat enough? What time should I pick her up in the morning? This is a new concept: Pick her up in the morning. She is seven, and I ask, what value is there to a sleepover at age seven? Maybe, if I don't get a phone call, the payoff is bigger than I thought: One tiny step closer to independence. But, I wonder, whose independence? Hers or mine? Because you see, as much as I wanted some free time, some time to myself, a "break" from motherhood, at the end of the day, I am the one who is most unwilling to let go.