I’m in countdown mode: six days till Jameson and I board [yet another] plane and head to northern New York.
I probably don’t have to share with you that I’m a wee bit nervous about flying, but well, I am. So you can pray the flight goes well. I’m trying to have a good attitude and hope for the best… and as a backup plan, I’m trying to have a “Mom” attitude and think of what an adventure this will be. This will be my first flight with a weaned, walking, energetic toddler. I’m, well, uh, nervous. But trying not to be. We’ll be fine. (We may also be the people that all the young professional males roll their eyes at, and will complain about that night to their peers while they hang out at some swank club, far away from all children. Oh well. They were kids once, too.)
Anyway, it’s less than six days. I’ve made lists of things to purchase, loose ends to tie up (or, in my case, clip off — I have a bad habit of throwing a pair of pants on Jameson before I’ve trimmed all of the threads), and am now entering clean-cook-and-pack mode.
I’m also entering clean-the-guest-room mode, because Mark is coming for the few days before I leave. How fun will that be? Of course, we’ll all catch up a bit, and it will hit me (again) that we’re like 15 years removed from wearing braces and Suzuki violin and are rounding the bend to 30. I can sort of forget that fact until I’m with someone who I think should be a teenager like me, and they’re not. (Which means that I’m not, either.)
So clean out the fridge, cook up some food, change a few beds, and throw everything we own for the summer into a few bags (and hope they don’t weigh too much), and then we’re off.
Off to see moms and dads and Jedi knights and blonde princesses, red-headed babies and their mamas, sisters and friends and church and corn fields. Yeah. I miss the corn fields.