Between the leaky tire and the drink guzzling boys, there were no shortage of stops for bathroom breaks.
The girl is Commenced. Tomorrow her small group tour begins.
We've only been gone three days, but somehow it feels more like a week.
The epiphany of the weekend?
There were two:
From the moment a child breathes air on her own, you have to start letting go.
You can teach them, guide them, model right living for them, hold them, kiss them, laugh with them, laugh at them, cry with them, cry over them, pray with them, pray for them, scold them, encourage them, read to them, sing at them, dance with them, hold their hand, tickle them, worry about them, love them...
But you can't hold on to them.
You can't incubate them.
You can't soften every blow, take every pain away, make every tear stop.
You have to let them go.
If you've done your job well- if you've been a good parent, they will go away.
They will grow away.
They will fly away.
I will miss my girls when they go.
I've admitted it.
I WILL miss them.
But for now, we're home. I'm going to brew some proper tea, then go to bed.
Why do Hotels and Conference kitchens have the whole coffee thing figured out, but seem unable to make a good cup of tea? A bag in a Styrofoam cup of hot water, with powdered coffee whitener just doesn't do it for me.