Twas the Night Before

The first hints of this came about 18 months ago. But we didn't tell anyone because for the longest time, it was just an inkling of a maybe, a some day, a possibility. Then in the last seven weeks WHAM. And now here we are at the night before the real thing...well, at least the "real thing" in terms of a visit and an interview.

The kids are with P&B, packed with five changes of (mostly) clean clothes, a boat load of junk food that is supposed to stand in for my love and affection (although they get plenty of love and affection from their grandparents), and some distractions (i.e., things that plug in). Nine days away. I don't know whether I should laugh or cry. Thanks to the big late afternoon fight with the eldest child, I'm being thankful for the peace right now.

John is probably thankful, too, especially after stepping out of his vehicle in the driveway to hear me screaming at the eldest. I was on the front porch and he was walking away from the house, down the muddy ditch leading from our house into town, in his sock feet. Eleven year old rebellion. Thirty-nine year old top-blowing.

Tomorrow holds 22 hours of travel. A combination of commuter plane (tiny, terrifying), FIRST class (Houston to London), and business class (London to Doha). Lots of free Champaign and food and private lounges with free internet service. I sense some blissfully spoiled mischief ahead...once arrived, I will be on my best behavior.

But before bed, I'm back to scrubbing the cheeto barf out of the carpet. :)