Is there such a thing as

"left-behind" guilt?  I know there is "survivor guilt" and I completely understand that, but that is not quite what I am talking about.  I am referring to the guilt one feels when they Skype their beloved for the first time and it finally hits the Skyper that he (or she, in this case) feels terrible for the entire situation?

Last night, yesterday…I don't know, I've lost track, at some point during the day we Skyped and instantly it hit me that he is stuck there for  a year.  Yes, it took a few minutes (days) to register.  By all accounts (his), he seems fine and has everything that he needs…yet I still feel guilty that I am not there, sharing in the experience.   I know I can't, well, won't (due to the kids), but that's not the point.  Yet, I probably shouldn't feel this way, as he has indicated that all is well, and that his apartment is what he expected, if not better.

Granted, I have only seen a bit of the bedroom…which is plain, but ample and has more than enough storage for his few belongings (including the custom-designed laptop built for the year away).  We have not had the official tour of the rest of the apartment, but given that Peter felt right at home at the unrenovated Oakwood…I think he's probably satisfied (to say the least) with the granite countertops and stainless steel fridge that he mentioned.

So why am I worried?  Why do I feel guilty?  Can anyone pinpoint and perhaps comment on why I should fret over someone who seems to be happy and  healthy?  Sure, he's a teeny bit sad to be away from home, but not overwhelmingly so (and it's to be expected). Since I couldn't figure it out, I thought the best solution would be to ignore it, take the kids out, and maybe I would get over it/forget about it.  So, we went to the Natural History Museum.  In DC.  At the end of July. Do you know who we saw there?

Guess. 

Yep: the rest of America.  We were all in the Natural History Museum together and boy, was it cozy for such a cavernous place.   The kids, not surprisingly, did not notice.  Thank goodness.  Nicholas spent the entire time screaming "Die-soar, die-soar!", Caitlin wandered off on her own a bit (but returned in a reasonable amount of time), and Kelsey loved everything but the forensic discoveries.  Too many skeletons (or "monsters", as Nicholas termed them) for her liking.

I can't say I absorbed much, but did get to overhear tourists bragging about seeing Obama's helicopters flying overhead (uh-huh), and absolutely adored the couple fighting in front of the elephant in the front hallway.  No, let me rephrase that:  the husband, for some unknown reason (guessing that general vacation happiness that everyone else was exuding) decided to dress down his wife in front of his kids, and anyone who was within a 10 foot radius got an earful.  Seriously not cool, but they all eventually stomped off in grumpy agreement, so here's hoping it was just a bit too much together time.  

More importantly, we had a DC first!  I didn't think that was possible, but given that Nicholas has never lived here, and the girls were fairly young when we left:  we rode the Smithsonian Carousel.  It was technically closed, but the operator opened it back up for another go not long after we arrived.  I guess the cadres of disappointed parents and overtired toddlers melting down appealed to his softer side, and he let us all on for one go round.  Nicholas was getting a bit cranky, but loved the wind in his hair and we managed to delay our foray into Friday afternoon DC rush hour traffic for just a bit longer.  

It wasn't until we returned home and Nicholas fell asleep (before dinner, so tired and hungry) and then woke up 15 minutes later (on the wrong side of the bed, to say the least) that we had our first "I miss Daddy" meltdown. Forget the guilt I had, how do you remind a toddler that Daddy hasn't vanished off the face of the earth?  We pulled up recent pics, talked about Daddy a bit, tried to have some dinner (think we drank our dinner…juice, folks, juice!), and even though it was a bit early for Pete to be up (according to our special clock) , we threw caution to the wind and rang up Peter on Skype.

He miraculously showed up on the screen, Nicholas talked a bit, blew Daddy kisses, and said good night.  Not ideal, but thank God we have that.  I'm thinking we also have to schedule story-time with Daddy…anything to make it feel like he's here.  It also helped to print out a favorite picture of Daddy, Uncle John and Nicholas in "Unca Chon's annance".  He wouldn't let go of it, though, and is finally snoozing soundly with the picture clutched tightly in his little fist.   Thank you, Skype inventor, we owe you one!

This one’s for you…

For calling, texting, tweeting and sending messages on Facebook.  For the comments on Facebook and the blog that had me close to tears.  For the missives sent in the middle of the night when you should have been sleeping…instead you were up thinking about us and stopped to write and let us know.

I am so grateful for the babysitting offers, the play date invites, the much-needed lunch out (Indian, perhaps?) and the swim & lunch afternoon yesterday (though I fear my kids completely deleted your goldfish and pudding supply!).   I haven't necessarily had a chance to write back to each and everyone one of you, but until I do, please know how much your support is appreciated.  You have all helped make what could have been a much rougher transition so much easier.

And to answer the question of the day: yes, we have heard from Pete.  In addition to Skyping last night (or this morning for him) while he was in Jordan, I received an email today indicating that he has reached his destination and is "boots on ground, safe and sound".

The picture?  I ditched my idea of being the uber-great mom last night when I turned the corner after leaving a friend's house and ran smack into Elevation Burger.  Its wonders had been extolled to me, and I just couldn't resist.  I know it's a bit early to be so lazy, but who doesn't enjoy a tasty organic, grass-fed beef burger that one doesn't have to cook?  And what's more fun that ketchup smiley faces on said burger?

He’s gone, baby, gone

 It seems like it has a been a whirlwind few months. From racing out here to find a house, getting a contract on the 'perfect place', going back to California to wrap up the school year,  buying the house at the end of May, packing out our rental the next day and then heading east…it's been crazy.

In reality, we saw today coming over 13 months ago, when we first perused the summer 2010 bid list.  Well, not "the" bid list, a special bid list that only included certain posts.  We had long bandied about the idea of Peter taking on a UT, but I was unwilling for him to go until Nicholas had at least reached toddlerhood.  He missed too much time with girls when they were babies, and I wasn't going to let that happen with Little Guy.

We had already made up our minds that there was no time like the present, and it was merely a matter of Peter officially putting his name in for several positions.  We had no idea what to expect, and after hearing nothing for a while, assumed it was not a go.  Then, in late August, Peter received an email and everything changed: there was now a 99% chance that he would go overseas alone.

We still didn't say much of anything, as the unofficial motto of the Foreign Service is "it depends."  Plans and tours of duty can change overnight.  Finally, in late December, we had received enough information that it seemed like this was a go.  I typed up a post with the news, but saved as a draft, as I just wasn't sure I was ready to click publish.  Several days later, he received the final word, and we moved headlong into trying to plan for the next year.  

Plan we did…from deciding to move back to the east coast to working through the what-ifs of me being a single parent for a year.  The culmination of the more than a year of planning, angst and likely needless worrying arrived this afternoon when we took Peter to the airport to catch 'that' flight.

 His plane to JFK did not leave until 5 p.m. and the kids yearned to eke out every last second with Daddy. We waited in the insanely long line of international travelers with Peter, glancing sadly at those families who appeared to be journeying or moving overseas together.   We finally made it through and he checked his bags to Jordan.  Without further ado, we moved to the pre-security area and said our good-byes.

 Watching him kiss Nicholas good-bye so tenderly was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. The girls have some understanding of what will happen, and we have been vigilant about reminding them how we are still a family and have so many ways to keep in touch.  It is not as easy to impart such an abstract idea to the Little Guy.  He did adjust very easily during Peter's 6 weeks away last winter, so I hope it will be a similar transition this time, for his sake, if nothing else.

 We had one final photo op and I thought that was it.  I was holding it together fairly well until Peter gently grabbed my arms and reminded me of how much faith he had in me as a parent and as his wife.  We embraced one last time as a family and then let him go.  He turned and walked away, paused to look back briefly, moved forward and then looked back one more time.  I hurriedly hoisted a now very sleepy Nicholas into the air and we all waved as he disappeared from sight.  We turned around, wiped our eyes, bought a much-needed chocolate bar and headed out to the car for the long drive home.

The edge

It is as though I am at the edge of a precipice, waiting to leap.   I worry about all that I will leave behind, that one last good-bye will not be enough.  I fret about moving forward, into the (slightly) unknown, but feel it has to be better than this anxiety-ridden last day.

I couldn't decide last night whether to go to bed or stay up and watch Peter tinker with the computer.  I tossed and turned over sleeping in versus trolling the aisles of Target with him for those last-minute must-haves.  I want to unpack more boxes, but don't want to waste our 'together time' sorting through piles of stuff that can really wait one more day.  I am a mess of fighting back tears about the imminent departure vs. dreaming about a weekend away at a sleepy little bed and breakfast on R&R.

Every meal has that tinge of bittersweet.  I want to cook our dinner together at home, but too many errands and family time at the pool cancel out that hope.  There is also his desire to hit another favorite "one last time".  

The hours before he leaves are dragging and flying at the same time.  I keep reminding myself that thousands have done this before and thousands will likely follow.  I should buck up and stop thinking, talking or writing about it and I will just feel better.  I should just go enjoy a last few moments of completely normal before he leaves.

Like we did yesterday…had a day at the Salty Dog pool.  We gorged on mezza and shawarma and then swam our little hearts out.  Kelsey had a cannonball contest by herself while Nicholas swam until exhaustion.  Cait twirled baby Nate in the water and we basked in a small break in the heat and humidity that the thunderstorm earlier in the day brought to us.

We dragged ourselves out of the pool to watch the kids play in the living room…Sunday evening play, nothing strenuous.  We read the comics and penciled in answers in the Sunday Post crossword.  Realizing the time, we gathered our bags and began to head out.  The blissfully normal continued until Pete started to walk out and said,  "see you in a few months" and reality reared its ugly head.  With that, we headed home in silence…until the girls fought over the radio and it was blissfully normal once again.

The UAB that nearly missed

 the boat (or plane, as the case may be).  I probably need not even mention it, as it is so widely known that one receives 250 lbs of unaccompanied baggage when heading overseas.  In cases of an unaccompanied tour such as Peter's, that is all one receives.  Nothing more, other than what one can purchase at post or ship in, but nearly a lot less for him.

Peter is a planner and has checklist after checklist after checklist for this move.  He has been on top of everything, calling, verifying, re-verifying, calling again, and checking email at all hours of the day.  Well, in nearly all respects.  The one area that lost a wee bit of his attention was the UAB.  My guess?  He wasn't even sure it was going to be necessary since he can take a whopping 70 lbs of belongings with him to post on Tuesday.  

If you know Peter, you know he is the definition of a minimalist, especially when it comes to travel. He is organized and efficient and takes the least amount of stuff possible.  In fact, we wondered if he would come remotely close to the 70 lb limit, much less have anything left over for air freight.  So much so that he considered canceling the UAB shipment entirely, figuring that he could (rightly so) purchase most of what he needs at post.

Now I am the opposite.  Not necessarily disorganized, but when I travel, I enjoy having a few creature comforts.  When I move overseas, I like to have a few 'favorites' with me, maybe a bag of coffee or  a favorite brand of toothpaste.  I finally managed to convince him that it might not be a bad idea to take a few items, whether it be a few treasured (but easily replaced) books or his brand of laundry detergent.  The response?  "Fine, fine, fine…".

Two weeks ago, he put in the shipment request and waited to hear back.  Meanwhile, time was flying.  He had consultations from the day we returned from vacation, and all the while patiently waited to hear about the UAB.  Nothing.  Finally it's Thursday night of last week and it occurs to him that not only did he request the pick-up for Friday morning, but that he never heard back from anyone. No messages on anyone's phone and not a single email.  One might think this means that the movers won't show.  Um, not so much.

Friday morning came bright and early as did our appointment with Cait's school.  We submitted her registration paperwork, and enjoyed a family breakfast out.  I was looking forward to an entire day of unfettered unpacking and organizing…until we pulled up to the house and found a moving van out front and three not so happy movers inside.  Commence three hours of phone calls, hair pulling, fears of no UAB shipment and (worse) fears of double payment for one UAB shipment. 

Unpacking?  Not that afternoon.  

Peter finally tracked down the right person, and it all boiled down to a technical error.  Really no one's fault, but wasn't something we really had time to deal with.  I suppose had we learned of the error Thursday night, we might have been able to throw something together.  However, given that there was no evidence the company was going to show, there didn't seem to be any reason to worry.  Nor could anything be done at the last minute:  his books were still packed, he hadn't had a chance to shop, and there was little, if any, packing space due to the unpacking that was still going on.

 In the end, it was rescheduled for yesterday.  No one really ended up at fault, and more importantly, no one (read: us) was charged any extra fees.  We had time to unpack his books, find a few videos, throw in a jacket or two, buy a new suit, and stock up on those favorites.  The movers showed up not only on time, but early, were finished prepping prior to the departure for nature camp and had departed the house by 9:30 a.m.   

It all worked out and the shipment is on the way.  The moving company is happy, we are happy, and no one is worse for the wear.  And, never, ever again will this household assume that no phone call (or email…or text…or tweet) means no movers…

One bonus

 to the move back to Virginia is the opportunity to reconnect with old friends, see them on a regular basis and give back as they have given to us throughout the years.  As you may have seen on our blog or on theirs, the Salty Dogs are known for giving our kids breaks from us during the summer.

 During the past few years, they have taken them camping, boating (power and sailing), had beach days and, of course, crafty time.  This kind of generosity has allowed Peter and I time to take small trips, given us time to close on a house, unpack or just relax and enjoy each other's company.  Now that Baby Nate has arrived, we are finally able to reverse the trend a bit.  Needless to say, the mother hens, Caitlin and Kelsey, are thrilled to help us.

  We had our first official opportunity (as a family) on Saturday night.  Shannon and Mark were having dinner with friends in the city, and given our proximity to DC, easy enough to let their Little Guy stay with us for a bit.  To say the kids loved it would be an understatement. 

 We read books, played with toys, took walks, rocked in the chair, and spent requisite time with Uncle Pete toiling away on coding for his current hobby.  Other than when Uncle Pete foolishly decided it might be bedtime and tried to rock Nate to sleep, LG Talbott was pretty darn happy.  When he was a little overtired and having trouble falling napping (not exactly the normal routine), I put him in the Ergo and we walked until he was snoozing soundly.  I got exercise and he had a little nap-time…a win-win scenario for all involved!

Above are a few photos from the evening.  No worries, Cait was only pretending to be asleep and definitely had a grip on Nate.  And, yes, Nicholas loves to eat cucumbers like their are apples.  Please ignore the boxes in the background and the general lack of organization.  Apparently we still have a wee bit of unpacking to do…

The towel

was crumpled up and left to dry (not) in a heap on the towel rack.  Thinking perhaps I had forgotten to put it away, I picked it up only to find that my hair towel (yes, I selfishly need a towel just for the tresses) was extremely damp, if not downright wet.  I looked around, realized that only one bath towel was hanging on the back of the door, and instantly knew that Peter had used my hair towel instead of getting the clean bath towels from the laundry room.

I started the shower and began to mumble under my breath about the use of my towel.   How hard is it to just go get another towel?  Then a rather sad thought popped into my head:  two weeks from now he will 'over there'.  My towels will be neat and orderly every day, or at least as I left them.  No damp towels on the floor, no extra piles of laundry where they shouldn't be and a nightstand with nothing on it but a lamp.  No wallet, no creds, no keys or any piles of loose change.  I started to tear up until I realized, on one level, that I asked for this scenario.

Eight years ago this August, we moved back to this very neighborhood from Venezuela.  Due to the needs of the service, Peter took position on a protective detail. Caitlin was not even four and Kelsey was 4.5 months when we returned to the States and he began the job.  We had heard that there was a bit of travel, and the schedule was a slightly topsy-turvy.  Nothing prepared me for what took place.

The minute home leave ended, the crazy schedule commenced, as did the travel.  Peter went from days to nights every two weeks and had a midnight shift every 12 weeks.  Interspersed into this chaos was trip after trip after trip.  As you can imagine, very few were domestic.  The tally at the eventual end of the tour in 2005 came to 48 countries, some of them several times.  We were not able to plan anything, including vacations or Kelsey's baptism.   The only guaranteed time off came when one of us had serious medical issues to deal with, such as Kelsey's cranio-facial reconstruction in June of 2003.  Despite the travel and odd hours, no one blinked an eye when Peter requested the family time.  More importantly, not having taken a sick day in ages meant more than enough time saved up for both the surgery and an appropriate recovery time.  The sick leave policy is nothing if not extremely generous.

That being said, the travel was so random and frequent that we really became quite independent of each other. I can't tell you how many times Peter called home to tell me that he would not only be leaving, but had to be on a flight that left in a short time.  This scenario meant that he magically needed to pack (he usually never completely unpacked) and get to the airport, as wheels up (not check-in) was exactly 5 hours away.  After 2 years of this (and more and more unaccompanied tours began popping up), I uttered the unthinkable, "It would really just be easier if he left for one solid block of time."  I was not bitter, but had simply come to realize that it would likely be less stressful if the travel came in large, prescheduled blocks rather than frequent last-minute trips here and there.  Little did I know how great the need would still be 6 years later.

Now lest the above description of our years from 2002-2005 sound like a rant, rest assured, it's not.  While it was not an ideal schedule for a young family, we learned to work around it.  We made the most of our time together, and Peter was able to attend a few events without question that would normally require time off.  We didn't rely on each other as much, and I learned that what didn't leave me exhausted, just made me stronger.  I managed to build a good support and social network and had a babysitter who could help out at the drop of a hat.  It wasn't the easiest time of our lives, but definitely taught us much about what we could or could not handle…like this upcoming year.

Yet we are now 9 days out from his departure and I am already weepy over bath towels.  Silly, really, as we have so much available to us that years ago was unfathomable.  We will be able to call, Skype and email, technological capabilities that eluded most in this career for decades.  I know where he will be and how long he will stay there.  I know he gets three R&Rs and those will be solid chunks of family time.  I know I have friends and family (thanks in advance, Dad!) near and far who have already begun to offer support in anticipation of me not being able to do it all myself.  Yes, I can, but I have learned that there isn't any shame in knowing when one truly needs help.

I also have friends who will be going through the same thing at the same time and completely understand our unique situation.  I'm not the only one who is going to be a single parent this year, and I am comforted by the notion that at least this was a choice for our family.  

And that crumpled towel?  Yeah,  I'll miss it..not the wet, crumpled heap, but what it represents…

Something was missing…

from our weekly routine.  I knew we were off-kilter after moving across the country, then taking a week-long vacation and topping that with visiting friends and family for another week.  A good off-kilter, mind you, but the move was beginning to sink in…as well as the realization that I needed to get settled and fast. I tried to get back into the swing of things on Monday while Peter began his consultations, but came to the conclusion rather quickly that I no longer knew what the 'swing of things' was for our new life.

So instead I stressed about everything.  Stressed about the unpacked suitcases, stressed about the unpacked boxes and realized that unpacking with the kids around simply wasn't a good idea.  Lest I sound like the worst mother on the planet (or a close second), I have decided to be selfish and need time for myself to get settled.  As much as I know the kids can help, I really, really want to simply want a day to myself with no one around.  I want to put my headphones on, crank up the iPod and get back into my mad decluttering/organizing/box-emptying mode that I was in the day the movers arrived.  Mercifully, I will get my wish tomorrow.

I was given the above news last night, when I really, really needed to hear it.  In fact, just hearing about my 'free time' gave me the inspiration to get through an entire box of china and crystal.  It's not put away yet, but in a staging area (like that, S.?) for tomorrow. It also gave me the idea that getting out of the house today and setting very few goals (rather than too many) might be the best plan.  By the time I was really awake this morning, I realized our morning would have one goal, and one goal only.

We woke up way too late as we have been less than strict on bedtimes and I have not been sleeping well. Nicholas and I ate breakfast, roused the girls and tried to hurry them along so as not to miss our first trip to the local farmers market.  Yep, that was it. That's what I needed…not more coffee, not to worry about where to put the crystal, not to cry over a lack of exotic summer plans…we just needed to get out and visit a familiar place that would put us all in a good mood.  Call us simpletons, but that place was the (comparatively speaking) tiny, but chock-filled with fresh produce goodness farmers market in Annandale.

We pulled up into the lot 15 minutes before closing, but we were there (hint: going late also often means lower prices).  It had been over 5 years since I had attended this market and wondered if any of my old favorites such as Valentines's Country Bakery or the Greek lady who sold baklava from her trunk would still be there.  Sadly, Greek lady* was not there, however in the past she left when she ran out of her homemade delights, so not surprising.  

The Amish bakery was there and now also offered a wide variety of grass-fed meats, which we will have to sample soon.  Five years ago, the booth was attended by a young boy (maybe 8 -10) and his father.  He was no taller than Kelsey is now, very quiet and unassuming.  Five years later, and the stand is still run by the same family.  The young boy now towers over me and seemed to exude friendly authority rather than shyness.  How reassuring that the business was not only run by the same family, but seemed to thrive in our absence, despite us having not purchased a single whoopie pie from them in over 5 years. 

 Other farms also had young help, logical since most are family businesses.  At the very next stand, we found plump grape tomatoes and cucumbers perfect for slicing and tossing with vinegar (Kelsey's favorite). The cashier could not have been more than 10, but chatted fluently in both English and Spanish with customers. She weighed, counted, bagged and made change without missing a beat in either language.  

We finished up with fresh peaches across the way as the stores were beginning to shut down.  As we were walking down the aisle of the market, I realized that I had finally started to feel normal again.  Funny how one tiny routine task can make a day or, in my case, a week?  Now lest one think I am attached to this particular market, I have already researched others in the area and have heard the Falls Church (among others) is well worth the trip.  It's held on Saturday mornings and I am thinking we will have to mosey over there next weekend. I'm quite grateful we have an entire year here, as we will also have to hit the markets in Alexandria City, Reston, and Annapolis, to name a few.

 Now I made us sound a bit lazy, as though we did nothing but run to the farmers market and back home again.  No, we also had a chance to meet up with our friends Jack and Janet for dinner.  We had recently heard of a new burger joint, Ray's Hell Burger (and Ray's Hell Burger, Too).  It was rumored to be exceedingly good and could possibly trump Five Guys.   Peter is always up for a good burger, and even more so now with the count-down to departure clock rapidly ticking away (11 days, 18 hours and 49 minutes, not that we are counting…), no time like the present!

 We found a metered parking spot in front of the restaurant and headed into the most unassuming burger joint we have seen as of late.  The menus were simple and had been typed up and photocopied.  Despite the plain appearance, the burger styles had me unable to choose until the last minute.  And the toppings?  Too many to list here, see the menu.   The girls went with plain burgers and Peter and I created our own burgers with the lil devil option (supposedly small, but quite enough in my opinion).  

 Yum, yum, yum. Perfection on a bun.  In fact, the brioche bun was the only negative.  Tasty, but a bit weak for all of the toppings we had them slather on the poor burger (which was excellent).  If you are in the area and have a hankering, definitely worth the stop.  Tasty and the tab was easy on the wallet.  Delish burgers and good friends…not a bad way to spend the evening and a perfect wrap-up to the day.

*From a Yelp review, it sounds like she is also a regular at the Falls Church farmers market…yippee!

Home Again, Home Again

 After almost two weeks on the road, we are home (well, in our current locale) for the moment.  Sadly, the unpacking elves did not do their job while we were gone and the house was not quite as organized upon return as I thought we left it.  On the other hand, since we had only moved in 6 days prior to our trip, I think we can cut ourselves a break on this one.

In addition to the lack of organizing, the elves also forgot to stock up on cleaning supplies and groceries. I made the requisite trip to my not-so-local Whole Foods last night and bought two day's worth of dinners and other 'necessary' supplies for an ungodly sum of money.  Despite the payout, the trip helped me find 'my' grocery store.  I have been so incredibly dissatisfied since we moved from San Ramon, as I realized I finally had everything I needed there.

It's the one aspect of moving that drives me crazy:  having to find my new 'everything'.  Yes, there is still a long list, and I will probably not complete it until the movers pull up next summer.   My roots are begging for a touch-up, we need to verify with a new pediatric dentist that we will have to shell out for the kids "orthodonture" sooner rather than later, the fridge has a leak (anyone know a trustworthy appliance repair person in the Northern VA area?), and the list goes on.  

I won't dwell on that stuff though, as at least are living in a crowded, box-filled house that we own!  We made mortgage payment number one on July 1 and only have 359 more to go.. As much as I loved living in Northern CA (yes, I did, I really fall in love with the area…), I do not miss that house *shudder*.  

Since I have completely and utterly digressed, my point was not to complain about the area stores, but regale you with tales of catching up with old friends.  This past weekend, we ended up having an opportunity to catch up with our friends, Beth and Nick and their three absolutely wonderful children.  We met them only days after moving to San Ramon and have been so very glad for their friendship since that first time we talked.

We were at ye Olde Residence Inn at the same time and started chatting while at the pool (where else?). Beth's daughter, Sarah, kindly made Cait's acquaintance (they are a mere 5 months apart in age) and things went swimmingly from there. We would lollygag about around the hot tub and commiserate about moving (they have also moved quite a bit). We even eventually figured out that we both grew up in Memphis and went back and forth with the "Do you know..?"s quite a bit.  

Sarah and Cait quickly became friends.  Despite the fact that we eventually lived in different towns, the girls were able to get together frequently for slumber parties, movies and the like.  Beth and family hosted us for our first California Thanksgiving dinner and we had them over for Christmas Eve dinner after we all listened to Cait sing at mass.  

As it turned out, they did not stay in the area very long.  We were very sad to see them go, as all of the kids got along so amazingly well.  They ended up moving to a delightful small town in Connecticut, which thrilled us.  It may sound terribly far away, but their house is not a great distance from the route that takes us from Peter's parents house (albeit, a long one) to our own.  Last Saturday, we had our first chance to stop for a visit since moving back to Virginia.

 It was planned rather quickly, as our beach vacation/family visit planning was in flux for so long.  In fact, Beth opted not to tell Sarah, that we were coming (on the off chance we couldn't make it). Cait surprised her at the door Saturday afternoon and it was as though they had never been apart.  Daniel, her middle child, took Nicholas under his wing, and they had a great afternoon playing cars, trains and helicopters despite the 8 year age difference.   The kids (let's not forget Kelsey or Emily, Sarah's little sister) played, swam, played some more, swam again, and finally fell asleep to a movie (sans Nicholas, he was early to bed).

It was a wonderful weekend, from the kids reconnecting to the fabulous spread Beth prepared to the scrumptious steaks Nick grilled for us. Despite the fact that it had almost been a year since we had seen each other, it felt as though nothing had changed (other than Cait and Sarah each growing 4 inches taller!). Our only misgiving was not planning to have more time there, as the catching up and relaxing with old friends is just such a good thing for one's soul.  Much appreciation to Beth and Nick (and the kids) for hosting our family and can't wait to see you again soon!