He left in the wee hours of the morning on Friday. At some ungodly hour. Which is why I told him not to wake us...
I regretted that later.
Off to celebrate the marriage of his youngest brother. Practically on the other side of the country. Louisiana. We've been there once. And that was enough!
My emotions were mixed.
On the one hand I wanted him to go. And celebrate. Eat. Drink. And be merry.
On the other hand. We have three kids. And I really don't think it's fair to count Trevy as just one. Because by golly...caring for him takes the same amount of energy as caring for five.
I sense that eyebrow raisage.
I know you think it's just me being dramatic. But cross my heart it's true. Ask Grams. Ask Miss. CNA. Ask Jonathan even...who has taken to lovingly calling Trevy our one year old three year old. They'll all assure you that behind that cute crooked smile and delicious curls and heart of a lion...is a little boy whose needs are utterly endlessly exhausting!
So if you honor the Trevy factor - that makes eight.
And because the selfish part of me clung to that fact I didn't want him to go.
But I let him. Without too much guilt tripping.
We survived. With tons of help from Grams. And friends who are always there to schlep Toby to various sporting events when we can't. And lots of fast food. And restless nights. And Toby getting bitten by "the bug". On the way home from a tournament. A tournament that was an hour away. An hour of which we were only half way through. When I happened to notice his blanching face in the rear view mirror. No sooner did I crank the wheel towards the shoulder than he lost his lunch all over the backseat. By the way...many thanks to one of his buddies for sharing that Chirico sub with him. Pleasant.
But we survived.
Jonathan is floating on wind currents somewhere between here and Atlanta.
And I'm feeling kinda proud that we survived. Almost.
I may even kiss him hello before plopping two kids and The Trevy Factor on his lap so I can head immediately out for a private pedi/mani/massage followed by a trip to the Apple store where the perfect iPad is waiting just for you know who.