This past weekend was wonderful.  I got to spend time paddling, with friends, and getting caught up on home things (i.e. laundry and packing).  But mostly, I spent time with the kiddos.

We cooked all of our meals together (I’m giving them basic cooking lessons as a prep for their soon-to-be living on their own), watched movies, and just talked.  And talked.  We ate our meals on the back porch surrounded by the bird chatter (I loved that moment that GameBoy looked up into the trees and exclaimed “There are a lot of birds up there!”  And maybe finally understood why I like taking my morning coffee and afternoon tea out on the deck).

As the weekend came to an end we were up late talking once again and I told them what a wonderful time it had been.  I asked them if they noticed how different this weekend was from the other ones that we’ve had together the past few months.  And for a moment they thought about it but didn’t grasp what made this one so special.  Then I reminded them that it was our first weekend together since I’d graduated, and recounted just how stressful my weekends had been in my final push to finish writing my dissertation.

Then Catgirl asked, “Mom, how long has it been since you’ve been doing schoolwork on your weekends?”

“Ten years.”

(she was five then)