After a whirlwind week, a few fun child-free days, and almost a full day (21 hours) of driving, our family (minus my stepson, who at 22 doesn’t live at home anymore) is all back under one roof!
Monday night, after Georgia left for camp, I was completely bereft, but my husband, after letting me get tears and snot all over his favorite shirt, changed into a clean shirt and took me out for spicy catfish and bourbon at Marjie’s Grill, which improved my outlook on life immensely.
Tuesday and Wednesday, he had to be in Lake Charles for work, so we packed up the dogs and had a brief overnight there, where we sampled some delightful local cuisine and ate ice cream in bed.
Thursday found me driving to and from Memphis to do a kid handoff with my ex (a happy reunion made better on the way back by a steady stream of Taylor Swift and Leanna Firestone songs and a quick trip through the Zaxby’s drive-thru), and on Friday, we all drove to Wiggins, Mississippi, to claim Georgia from camp. (Report on camp: She was so homesick that she threw up every night but also she had a blast? We all contain multitudes, I guess?)
Saturday was our first full day with everyone at home since early June, and almost immediately, everyone was bickering, eating all the snacks, and using more toilet paper than seems humanly possible.
Georgia followed me around all day talking to me about Bath & Body Works products and YouTube celebrities and TikTok cooking videos, and Rowan mostly ignored me except to ask for the car keys, argue with me about sharing her location on her phone (it’s either that or submit to overly frequent text check-ins, kid, sorry), and beg for a 3 a.m. curfew so she could go see the midnight showing of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” with friends.
I’m tired. I’m annoyed. I’m already craving the solitude of the past week.
And yet, somehow, I am also whole again – and wouldn’t have it any other way.
