Last week we traveled to Northern California and back for the 4th of July weekend. It was great – we spent time with lots of family and friends and F got to catch tadpoles and make fairy houses in the creek, paint watercolors with her auntie in the middle of the forest, eat eggs fresh from the chicken’s nest on her great-grandparents’ farm, and sleep late with some of her best buddies. It was everything I’d hoped it would be, even with the stresses and challenges that come with traveling. It was a weekend filled with the kinds of moments that make you feel, deep down, why all the tough stuff of parenting is all worth it – it was also a weekend filled with the kind of moments that make you say, OK, THIS means I am REALLY a parent. Like when I wrapped a half-eaten piece of pizza in a napkin and shoved it right into my purse before we boarded a plane. Or when I googled “Disney Cruise” not 24 hours later. THOSE are the moments when it hits me: I am a parent! Holy crap.
Had any of those lately?