Mamma

Hi, we're home! We had a nice time. One thing, we went to a really good Chicago pizza place, Giordano's. Delicious! Just look at this puppy, so good. We had pizza for lunch and dinner all the way home too! : )

Our waiter was really cool. He looked like Vince Vaughn with lighter hair. He made lunch interesting. My youngest pulled a butthead move: "Hey mom, what's that behind you?" and snagged my pop. The waiter was there immediately and said, "Okay, I'm confused. Should I bring a refill of regular Coke or Diet Coke? You're drinking Diet now, right? So, I'm just really confused about what's going on here..." Ooh. Called out my son. The message was so clear, "Respect your Mamma." I enjoyed feeling vindicated. Later when he came back with our pizza, he asked me if I'd like a piece and served me and asked my 15-year old if he'd like a piece, served him and then left. Ouch! My 13-year old just seethed. That's okay. Good lesson for him.

I am having a hard time describing my feelings about my role during the trip. At home, things fall into a groove and it's not quite as obvious why the house exists or why we have food, they just have their own little routines. Out on the road, we are it. All we have is our car, this much fuel, these snacks, these maps. Like a spaceship or a submarine. On the road, I was the captain, the navigator, the treasurer, and security guard. It's not lost on me the importance and satisfaction of providing for and protecting my cubs. I hope they find that as well.