My eight-year-old daughter has been off on an adventure, her first time to be gone from home for more than a night. She is staying with my sister, baking chocolate cakes, loving on her six-month-old cousin and doing projects with her uncle. I just hope she actually wants to come home today. While I have thoroghly missed her and am ready to lavish her with all sorts of please-still-like-me-better-than-my-sister attention, her brothers haven't missed her presence as I thought they might come around to doing after, lo, these many days. Last night at dinner we were talking about being excited that she's coming home. My three-year-old, ever the misogynist (see this post), when asked what he wanted to do when she got home replied, "I'll just put her in the trash can." So much for absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Anyone who knows us well knows that my daughter and I tend to butt heads a good bit. I think the short separation has been good for us. I hope my expectations aren't too high, but I am hoping it will give us a fresh start of sorts when she gets back and help us out of the rut of behaviors that get us all cross-ways with each other.
Maybe not a start this fresh:
I have a problem with holding on to too many regrets and wishing I could start my parenting journey all over, knowing what I know now. But even with all the moments I wish I could do over, I wouldn't have missed it for the world [cue cheesy 1980s Ronnie Milsap song here]...
I had too much fun going through 8.5 years of photos. I had to stop myself so that I can leave to go retrieve the actual child. If you want to see some more, you can look here.
And if you were really sad that you didn't get to hear the Ronnie Milsaps song, you can go here.