Missing her.

Last week I was fortunate to spend plenty of girl time with my little peach. I took Thursday and Friday off work, so we basically had a four-day weekend. We did lots of fun stuff, but mostly just enjoyed our time together.

The park by our house has sprinklers that shoot out of the ground. I always forget about his feature, so we failed to bring a swimsuit with us when we went there on Friday. But it was 90 degrees outside, so I let her get soaked anyway.

I love these pictures from that day.

Last week was one of those weeks that I'll never forget. We had nowhere to be and all the time in the world to get there. If only every week was like that!

Yesterday morning we woke up around 4:00 a.m. and drove to Midway. We checked in at the Southwest counter, La got her lanyard-style gate pass, and we marched on through security—Dr. P along side for moral support.

La was simply delightful.

And I held it together like a champ. (Usually by the time we enter the airport doors, I'm already bawling like a baby.)

Then we waited for her plane to start boarding. Being an Unaccompanied Minor, she got to board first. So there we stood smack-dab in front of the A group of patient passengers, kissing and hugging and saying goodbye. Aunt M would have told us to get a room.

In the past, the flight attendant has come off the plane, shook my hand, and personally escorted my baby onto the aircraft, while assuring me that she was in good hands. This time, the attendant just came part of the way up the jetway and waved for La to climb aboard. So she did. La never turned back to wave ... just skipped along down tunnel all by herself, carting her thirty pound backpack, brave as can be.

As soon as the peanut was out of sight, I let out a wail and buried my head in Dr. P's armpit. Thank goodness for him. And his fresh-smelling armpit. My meltdown only lasted about 30 seconds, and I was fine. Well, about as fine as one can be when one's sweet little 3.5-foot six-year-old nugget of a child is belted into a tin can that's about catapult itself clear across the country. Through the sky. Via the stratosphere. WHAT THE ...?

Stop thinking about it you crazy worrywart!

But before she was catapulted, my poor little girl had to sit on the tarmac for an hour and a half waiting for a storm to clear, and I had to sit inside the airport and fret about my little girl sitting on the tarmac, waiting for a storm to clear.

I guess it's better to sit on the tarmac than to take off straight into a cumulonimbus cloud that's pelting lightning.

Eventually her plane took off, and I stopped fretting. And she got there just fine.

She has now been there for about 30 hours, and I have yet to speak with her. But she did leave me a voicemail while I was in a meeting this morning. All I heard was something about how she has a sister who slept in her bed last night. I think the "sister" is actually a kitten, but I'll let you know as soon as I get ahold of her.