The kids were with their father for two weeks of vacation the second half of August.
It’s the longest stretch of time I’ve ever been away from them.
The weeks leading up to this were overwhelming with relatives visiting from Texas and swim meets in Florida and Virginia and a college move in North Carolina.
I was looking forward to the break and to having some time to decompress and recover.
I appreciate the time alone. I need it.
Initially, it takes a little getting used to when the kids aren’t here.
I go from one extreme to another.
This summer I seriously went from one extreme to the other.
For me, the absence of chaos is almost as overwhelming as the presence of it.
There is definitely an adjustment period.
I didn’t realize what I missed most about the kids being gone until they came home.
It was the cooking.
Yeah, making dinner can be a grind at times, but I didn’t realize how much I genuinely enjoy feeding people.
Especially my kids.
I love cooking for my kids and I love cooking with my kids.
And I’m really happy to have a full, busy, noisy kitchen again.
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