This little sandy-haired guy — father of seven, recent law school graduate, hard-headed son of a…oh, wait. Never mind that last part — is turning 32 today. He was a much-loved and much-wanted baby who taught me everything I needed to know about unconditional love. This photo was taken on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, at his father’s family compound (sounds fancier than it was, but it was a nice, peaceful place) when the boy would have been around 1 and a half. We were still living in Kansas, getting ready (though we didn’t know it at the time) to both move to Connecticut and end a marriage, though one event had precisely nothing to do with the other.
I never intended to be a single mother living an entire time zone away from my family, but that’s how things happened and I’d like to publicly thank my son for letting me try out my best mothering moves — unencumbered by family input — on him.
Sam-I-Am, I love you.
Before you wake up tomorrow, we are — all of us — heading to Iowa for a beloved niece’s wedding. (It’s on a farm! In a seed barn, which is so cool for these Connecticut kids.) From there, I’m heading south to Missouri to see family for a few days. I have an Uncle Jerry I need to go out and hug.
Reader, we are driving.
We’ll be a caravan of two cars and 11 people (as of last count) because we’d like to see if we can still be talking to one another after such a venture. As I type this, I’m looking at an outsized cooler, a pregnant suitcase, and a boatload of anxiety about how a group aged almost-58 to 5 can stand one another after being trapped in a car for days, together. It will, at the very least, be interesting.
I’ll step away from the blog until July 25. That means I will be confining my hateful snark to social media during the upcoming Republican National Convention.
Enjoy the silence. Talk to you soon. Go have an adventure.