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Browsing Tag: travel

Because the Food is at Your Fingertips, Children

The girls and I are sitting on the couch, talking about…food. It’s a regular discussion around here. On this particular afternoon, the girls are saying that they don’t like the chicken nuggets served from the school cafeteria because “they taste like a freezer.” I’m kind of impressed that they would notice something like that and make a lighthearted compliment about their palates, which–as such a comment would, in Nowhere Land, I suppose–immediately insults them. Saoirse is the first to get defensive. “Well, I still like sugary stuff,” she says, like I’m about to deny her ice cream cones forever.  “It’s a compliment,” I reply. “It means that when you travel around the world some day you’ll be able to land in any country and enjoy whatever food you find there.”  My comment worked: the girls perked up, and thankfully the conversation shifted. Quinlan: “I want to travel.” Saorse: “I want to go to Mexico.” Quinlan, to Saoirse: “You’ll have to speak Spanish in Mexico. So you have to learn your Spanish.” Saoirse nods…

Boarding Now

I write this from a train somewhere between Pennsylvania and New York City. And as I write this, David is just finishing up a lunch meeting in England from an office in St. Albans (or is it Hatfield? I’m not sure. It’s a little out of my frame of reference). I just got back from a trip to Chicago and Wisconsin where I was spending time with my future sister-in-law’s lovely family. Dave will come home, repack his luggage, then take off to Baltimore for my bro’s bachelor party. When he comes back, he will repack (Orioles t-shirts don’t look quite as good worn during highfalutin work meetings, you think?), he’ll drive to Connecticut, for more work. By the time you read this, he will be home, and we will be adjusting to life as a family. And by that point, it will be 2 1/2 weeks since I got on that plane in Baltimore. And it will seem like a lifetime. I never thought we would be that family. When I was growing up, my parents were, well, home. My mom stayed at home with us until I…

Our Bank Account Wasn’t So Happy, Either

With two trips to Connecticut and a weekend out in Indiana for this past weekend’s Notre Dame-USC game (IRISH!), David had been away for the better part of two weeks. It’s good to have him home, even if it means there’s a couple extra pairs of shoes by the back door we get to trip over (he has big feet, so, you know. Big shoes). I don’t know if other parents feel like this when their spouses travel, but when he’s gone, I feel like I’m holding my breath for much of the day, just trying to keep everything–the kids, the chores, the pets, the errands–under some vague sense of control until bedtime. When he travels, by the end of the day, every cell in my body is sore–it’s the kind of tired that lets you know you’ve earned your keep on the planet that day. But it’s also the kind of tired that sometimes condones you serving the kids eggs and toast for dinner AGAIN, and possibly not showering until the day David arrives…