Honestly, someone should have started a pool on how long it would be until I posted again. One of you would be… not rich. But maybe have a couple of extra dollars in your pocket.

So I’m sitting here in the midst of what I like to call existential crisis mode, where I can’t focus on anything and I fleetingly think about all the things I should be doing, and then, like a boulder dropped onto my chest, I am missing my kid something awful. It’s fierce and piercing and it physically hurts. I’m not sure if it’s because of the child who was just carried out of the library, crying. Or seeing the headlines about the Connecticut school shooting. Or just because sometimes, despite the frustration and the backtalking and the seemingly constant sass, I miss my kid.

I’ve taken no pictures. I’ve written no blog posts. I’ve made no phone calls and I’ve addressed no Christmas cards.

Instead, I wait.

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