The girls are off at “Camp Grandma” this week. They head out-of-state for a week each summer to spend time with grandparents and cousins, without the watchful eye of old Mom and Dad.

They sent this picture yesterday of them riding a horse. I know they are thrilled! (So, I guess I can overlook the fact that they went horseback riding in the dresses I sent for church, and flip flops??)

All of the sudden, there’s only one load of wash a day, one load of dishes, and no one begging for snacks.

Yesterday, I forgot about lunch because no one said “Mom, I’m hungry.” I still make up silly songs, dance around the kitchen and tell really bad jokes (to myself). Only no one “Maaaooooommmmmm!..” And no one giggles.
The Polly pockets have sat in their box, not once escaping to make a mountain out of the ironing board. The dog hasn’t been in trouble once for chewing something that was forgotten and left out.
So I suppose I should be at the spa or lunching with friends. But mostly? Mostly I’m wandering around wondering what I’m doing with myself. Wishing they were here. Stunned at the silence. Missing them.
My husband and I find ourselves refering to “K would have loved this” or “Just like K!” — it’s tough to turn that parenting stuff off.
I hope your having fun girls, but hurry back. Your Dad isn’t going to tolerate me cutting his meat into tiny pieces much longer.