Last Thursday, a group of my knitting “village” headed up to Dallas for Stitches Texas. Three of us met at the airport near us to fly up together. We were excited and ready for some knitting adventures.
One of our tech-savvy knitters had even made up several pages of schedules and fact sheets for us so that we would all know when and how each person was arriving and where they were all supposed to be during the days of classes. We were also armed with the GroupMe app so that we could all communicate with each other, as needed.
We stayed at the Omni in Las Colinas, just down the road from the Irving Convention Center, where Stitches Texas was being held. This was a fancy hotel – fancier than places that I’m used to staying. It was nice but I quickly discovered that “fancy” is apparently code for “must pay extra for everything.” The only thing free was the wifi (because we’d signed up for their Rewards program) and two cups of coffee each morning. My roommate and I didn’t even take advantage of the coffee the first morning because we were so leery that we might be charged big bucks for that “free” coffee. However, I’d already been warned to bring lots of dollar bills for tips and I was glad that I had heeded the advice.
The first presentation I attended was by Candace Eisner Strick. She went through her designs from her latest book, Knit My Skirt. Now, like many others, I’ve never thought I could wear a knitted skirt. However, after listening to Candace and seeing some of the skirts she had designed, I DO think there just might be a style or two out there that I could perhaps knit and wear.
I wasn’t alone in having my preconceived notions changed. Several others in my group also decided they might try knitting a skirt. It was nice to have many from our group attending the presentation because what one person misses, another will pick up and it helps to have group reenforcement.
As I sat on one side of the fashion runway for Candace’s presentation, I glanced across to the other side of the room and smiled at a lady in the front row on the other side. Then I REALLY looked at her and started grinning and waving enthusiastically. My goodness, it was my friend, Peggy from Pennsylvania. I couldn’t believe she was here. Not only that, but she was wearing a skirt derived from one of Candace’s patterns in the book and Candace asked her to model it for us. Peg is one talented knitter and it was such a treat to see her AND her lovely skirt.
I later went over to the Knitter’s Magazine booth and took some pictures of several of the skirts from Candace’s book. Just lovely!
The other free presentation that I attended was given by the editor of Knitter’s Magazine, who went over how he chooses what designs will go into each issue. He walked us through the next issue that will be hitting the stands soon. Very interesting. The Knitter’s Magazine booth had some of these featured in the issue on display so that you could see them in person.
This sweater is one that will be in the next issue (whose theme was stratification, I think he said). I love the colors and the layers they create.
Of course, one of my favorite places was the marketplace. StevenB was there with the largest selection of Hedgehog Fibres yarn that I’ve ever seen in one spot. I also want to give a “shout-out” to two of my new favorite vendors – Twisted Owl Fiber Studio and Stunning String Studio.
Of course, I found some yummy yarn to take home. These two groupings will be used for some Stephen West shawls.
Stitches Texas held a “pajama party” one of the evenings and our group headed down that night in the elevator. There is one lady in this pic who wasn’t with our group. She looks like she can’t quite figure out what we are doing. Well, we’re having fun. Duh!
Speaking of fun, we also enjoyed the Indian restaurant near our hotel, Italian the first day, and a Japanese hibachi restaurant. I am not a big fan of hibachi (much ado about
nothing veggies) but wow, was my teriyaki steak melt in your mouth. Fantastic!
On the day of our departure, we headed over to the convention center to wait to hear who had won the Grand Prize. You had to be present to win so we were all there. As we sat and waited, I noticed that one by one, our group was trickling over to a nearby booth that had yarn for sale at 60-70% off. Pretty soon, they were coming back with big bags full of yarn. I wandered over but resisted the temptation, plus I didn’t want to have to lug any last-minute purchases on the plane.
With great luck, one of our group won one of the Grand Prizes (they had divided it up to 3 cash prizes of equal value). We whooped and hollered with glee because now our friend could go buy that luxury yarn she’d been eyeing for the entire weekend.
I DID forget to mention that I took two classes – one on knitting ergonomics (a very informative class) and one on crochet entrelac (decided that I don’t like entrelac any more crocheted than I do knitted).
Lessons learned as I left Stitches Texas?
-Take a sweater or shawl to the convention center. It was frigid the entire weekend in the building.
-Uber is rather fun.
-Take lots of money because convention cities/areas are expensive.
-Trying to get 11 women moving in the same direction and on the same page for group activities is nigh to impossible.
-Next time photograph more of the stunning knitwear attendees were wearing.
-And finally, Mama’s insistence that I learn to be a negotiator and a peacemaker is a valuable skill to have when traveling with a group.
Knit on, my friends, until our next great adventure!
I flew back to Houston yesterday from the Stitches Texas convention in Dallas. I’ll write about the convention in the next few days but the journey is still quite fresh in my mind. What a journey it was! The flight TO Dallas only took 38 minutes. We no sooner got in the air and received our
little minuscule packet of dry-roasted tasteless peanuts and our soda pop when I felt the plane descending and heard the stewardess announce that they’d be coming around to collect our trash immediately since the pilot was beginning the descent into Dallas. That’s how quick the flight normally is.
Yesterday, we were supposed to fly out at 5:00 p.m. When my group of 4 got to the airport, we saw that our flight had been delayed until 5:30. Our fourth person, who was flying to Kansas City, also was going to be delayed. We hung out in the airport and didn’t think too much about it until someone came on the loudspeaker to announce that Southwest was guaranteeing NO connections for anyone since there were so many delays and since, once you boarded, the average wait time sitting around on the plane before you were given the “ok” to take off was averaging 1 hour and 45 minutes. Oh, oh, this was not looking good. However, our flight was now bumped back up to leave at 5:20. Looking better.
At 5:15, we looked out the window and saw that there was NO plane at our gate. NOT looking good. We waited some more. In the meantime, our Kansas City-bound friend had camped out at our gate to keep us company since her flight kept getting delayed so we were all having fun swapping stories and knitting. Finally, the Houston plane arrived and we were ready to board.
Off we tramped down the runway and onto the plane, waving at our friend as we went. Then we sat. And we sat. And we sat, still at the gate. We sat on the plane over an hour at the gate before we finally backed up and joined the queue on the runway.
The pilot announced that, because there were so many delayed flights in the air and on the ground, the air traffic controllers were very overwhelmed. Consequently, we were NOT going to be flying our normal route back to Houston. No, we were going to be sent on a circuitous route resulting in a flight that should last 1 hour and 45 minutes. Huh? Suddenly those peanuts were sounding mighty good. It was also good that my fellow knitting buddies on the plane had stocked up with lots of snacks so I knew we were NOT going to waste away.
The lights of Houston came into view a little after 8 p.m. and we landed safely. Hooray! Off we tramped to the Baggage Claim area. As I stood next to a conveyer belt, I thought I heard the voice of another knitting guild member I knew but I figured I was mistaken, since she had supposedly flown out of Dallas an hour before our flight. However, there were so many people milling about that it resembled a tick convention on a bunch of coonhounds.
When the baggage folks started announcing what carrel to go to for which flight, it became clearer. Four flights from Dallas had just landed within a few minutes of each other, in addition to a bunch of other delayed flights. Par for the course, OUR flight was not announced for baggage and we stood there like sheep.
People came and went, getting their bags and STILL our flight’s bags didn’t show up. After a long wait, the baggage claim folks finally announced that, “yes, Flight XX from Dallas folks, we know we haven’t announced your carrel yet. We are still trying to find out what is going on with your bags.”
What’s going on with our bags? Well, let’s hope what’s going on is NOT the plane on to it’s next stop at JFK in New York City! Thank goodness we eventually got our bags after a 40 minute delay.
In the meantime, a car carrying another bunch of our convention friends had started to Houston from Dallas around 1 p.m. They had been sending us periodic “sitreps” that they kept hitting traffic jams on the highway and were just sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic. We didn’t feel TOO bad for them because at one point they told us they had stopped at Collins Street Bakery for lunch. Let’s see…bakery vs. stale peanuts. No contest!
Anyway, by the time we got our luggage and dispersed to head home, we got another report from our friends that they had just passed a certain exit in Houston. My husband looked at me and said, “They’re about 3 miles ahead of us down the road.” So we all got home about the same time. Well, our friend heading to Missouri took longer. She did arrive in Kansas City but decided to spend the night with a friend near there before driving several hours back to her house.
Since I hadn’t eaten any supper, my hubby stopped at Five Guys so that I could grab something to go. I have since discovered that it is probably not wise to eat a Little Cheeseburger with grilled onions AND Cajun Fries at 10 p.m. but I’m always game to give it the “old college try.”
I have also discovered that it is good to be home, at least for a few weeks or so. I’ll blog about Stitches Texas and our adventures as a group in my next post. Until then, have a blessed day!
I’m getting ready to head up to the Stitches Texas conference for knitters, crocheters and other fiber artists. As part of the planned fun, there are a bunch of us who will be participating in a stitch marker exchange. So I’ve been busy making stitch markers for this.
Yes, I’ve been making LOTS of stitch markers. In fact, my group of knitting friends who are going to the conference have been meeting and working on our markers together, which is a load of fun, let me tell you.
Our latest “workshop” involved making markers out of Shrinky Dinks paper. It has been many, many years since I did anything with Shrinky Dinks and this proved to be lots of fun. If you aren’t familiar with the process, here is roughly how to do it.
You can buy Shrinky Dinks at most craft stores. It comes in thin sheets of plastic-like material or heavy vinyl. At the store I got mine from, they had matte, frosted, and white shrinky dinks paper. In the picture above this one, the matte markers are the ones that are black and white. The white markers were made from white shrinking paper. And the frosted ones are the semi-transparent ones in a bit of color and black and white. I found that, for the matte paper, I needed to take a green scrubber like you use for scrubbing a pan and lightly rough up one side of the paper so that I could easily draw on it.
OK, here is what you do.
1. For markers, find something circular, if you like that shape (i.e. the bottom of a pill bottle) and trace the circles onto the paper. You might want to experiment with several sizes of circles and go through the whole process, including baking them so that you can see what size they will end up.
2. Using Sharpie pens (or even Crayola-type coloring pencils/crayons), draw your design of choice on each circle. I used a piece of paper to rest my hand on while drawing (starting at the top of my Shrinky Dinks page) so that the oils from my hands wouldn’t interfere with the ability of the pens to draw on the paper.
3. Now cut out each circle.
4. Using a hole punch, punch a hole at the top of each circle. (NOTE: You MUST punch any holes you want to make before you bake these otherwise you’ll be trying to drill a hole in a hard, small object.
5. Now, put a sheet of parchment paper down on a cookie sheet (I used a jelly roll pan which is just a cooky sheet with a little lip all around it so that, if they “jumped” while baking, they wouldn’t accidentally slip off my sheet and gunk up my oven). Place your shrinky dinks circles on the parchment paper. NOTE: I think I placed mine about 2 or so inches apart.
6. Bake in a 350 degree oven. At this point, you need to turn on your oven light and watch them. First they will start to curl up until they look like little bowls. Don’t panic. This is normal. They will gradually lay back down flat. When they have flattened back down, you can take them out of the oven. NOTE: The whole procedure takes probably less than 5 minutes.
7. Now, using a second sheet of parchment paper, lay that extra sheet of the paper on top of the baked shrinky dinks and use a flat spatula to press down briefly on each one. This will just ensure that they are nice and flat.
8. I then slide the baked shrinky dinks (which are much smaller than they were originally, plus thicker) onto another sheet of parchment paper on my counter and let them cool, which doesn’t take long.
To finish making the markers, I open up a jump ring and insert it into the hole and then close up the jump ring. There you have it. You’ve made your own stitch markers. If you aren’t familiar at all with jewelry making, you’ll probably want to get a few tools.
I particularly like the following:
A set of jewelry pliers like these, which are a nice size to throw into a bag when going off to work on markers with friends.
You’ll also need see-through containers for your beads, assorted jump rings, and 2 or 3-inch headpins for making the beaded markers shown at the top of this post. But for shrinky dinks markers, it’s pretty simple: jump rings, hole punch, and shrinky dinks paper (they DO make generic shrinking vinyl paper, if you want to save some bucks).
Now go pretend you’re a kid again and make some crafts.
I knew it was going to be tough to come out to the East Coast and help my daughter with her newborn, especially since she also has a toddler. I’m not as young as I used to be and it takes a lot out of me to keep up with young-uns. What I wasn’t anticipating was that I was going to step smack dab into the “potty-training battle.” Oy!
Apparently most of little Sprout’s classmates have graduated on up to the next preschool class. He is still in the 2-year-old class along with a bunch of other boys who are also NOT potty-trained. They are the little delinquents of the school (biters and kickers) and Sprout’s mommy would like to get the Sprout out of that class and back with his little girlfriends, who are NOT biters and kickers. They are huggers. I could digress about this being a commentary on society in general but I shall stick to the subject at hand – potty training with a newborn in the house.
It’s stressful. VERY stressful. You’ve already got one big stressor with the newborn and when you add a toddler who isn’t particularly interested in potty training, you’ve got over-the-top stress.
Sprout’s mommy and I have been taking a gentler approach to his training, using lots of encouragement and incentives to get him motivated. Yesterday his daddy decided to take the “manly” approach as in, “You ARE going to the potty and not wearing a diaper all weekend and you WILL be potty trained.”
Did I mention that there were a lot of accidents, a lot of tears (toddler and mommy) and a lot of frustration all around? Time to go back to Plan A – the gentler approach.
Today, Sprout has used the potty several times and had success. Then he’s gone through several cycles where he has NOT wanted to use the potty.
Naptime just rolled around and Sprout decided that he wanted to use the potty. He insisted on crawling up on the big potty and sitting on a little insert. I helped him out of his diaper and shorts and he got settled.
“Woah, Sprout, let’s move you so you’re sitting facing forward,” I urged. (He was sitting sideways.)
Things were pointing outside the little shield so I showed him how to point his equipment down into the toilet.
Mommy came into the room and asked him how he was doing. We all took a look. It looked like he might be getting close.
“Hey, what is THIS?” Sprout said, pointing to himself.
“That’s your penis,” his mommy told him. “It’s where your peepee comes out.”
“I’m going to hit it,” he said.
“NOOOOOO!,” we both shouted.
“You might not want to do that, Bud,” I told him. “That’s going to hurt.”
“I think I might have to go peepee,” he said swinging around to look at us. Things were pointing straight at us. I took the high road and slid behind my daughter. “He’s all yours,” I encouraged her.
“I want to poop,” he decided.
We waited. Nothing. Gave him another minute. Nothing.
I decided to help things along with a made-up song to get him in the mood. Feel free to sing along to the tune of “Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay”.
“Ta-ra-ra poo de-ay.
I’m going to poop today.
I’ll poop right in this pot.
I think I’ll poop a lot.”
“STOP, Nannie. That doesn’t make me happy,” Sprout insisted, holding up his hand in my direction.
“Well, it makes ME happy,” I said softly.
We played the waiting game a bit longer and then we finally put him in his crib with a diaper on for a nap.
Now I’m sitting here and I can’t get that tune out of my head.
I woke up early (as in pre-6 a.m.) since I have the “let’s get Sprout ready for school” duty here on weekdays. Blearily pulling on my clothes, I waited for the first hints of stirring in the room next to me. Finally, I went in at 6:30 so that I could get him up, dressed, and fed before his daddy would take him to school.
“No, Nannie! I want my orange dinosaur shirt,” he wailed after I changed him. Mind you, this was after I pretended to change four of his stuffed animals AND had to lean over and pull him out of the crib because he was pulling his usual “I’m not budging and I’m scooting to the back wall of my crib” trick.
“Your orange shirt is dirty. How about the dinosaur bones shirt?” I offered.
“NOOOOO! I want to keep THIS shirt on,” he wailed. Since this was his pajama shirt, I told him that wasn’t an option.
“OK, why don’t you come over here and pick out a shirt to wear then,” I suggested, opening his dresser drawer.
“Well, then…you can wear the shirt I picked out,” I said.
“Those are your choices, Bud!” I countered. “Wear the shirt I picked out or pick out one yourself.”
“Looks like it is the shirt I picked out then,” I said and proceeded to put it on his wriggling, protesting body.
Then we had the struggle of trying to get him downstairs. When he doesn’t want to budge, he just sits down and becomes dead weight. Did I mention my daughter’s stairs are very steep and long? I sucked it up and lifted him and struggled downstairs only to be met by my daughter and the baby.
“What is going on?” she asked Sprout.
“WAAAAAAAAAH” There followed much screaming, kicking, and more screaming as mommy suggested a cup of milk (NOOOOOO!) and a slice of raisin bread (NOOOOOO!). We both decided to walk into the other room and leave him to his tantrum.
The baby started to wail. Et tu, Brute?
My daughter passed the baby over to me and I walked around the kitchen with him trying all of my tricks, to no avail. In the meantime, Big Brother continued to scream, kick, and wail.
Just then, their daddy decided to make his appearance.
I glanced up and said to him, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
And then it was time to send Sprout off to school. YESSSSSS!
Do you have children that are crazy for dinosaurs? We have several grandchildren that can’t get enough of these prehistoric behemoths. Yesterday, our little Sprout paid a visit to a nearby roadside attraction called Dinosaur Land. It is located in White Post, Virginia and I’d highly recommend it for your toddlers or children up to probably about age 8.
This is an older park but the fiberglass huge dinosaurs are well-maintained and the park is pleasantly constructed to corral your younger children.
First and foremost, it is shady. That is important on those hot, summer days when you are looking for a nice, cooler activity to do with your little ones.
There are gravel walk paths interspersed between the grassy areas. My daughter took the children in a double-stroller and reported back that she had no problems maneuvering the stroller through the park.
The park is fenced. That is a big plus so that you can let your toddlers out of the stroller to run among the dinosaurs while you keep an eye on them.
The park also wasn’t really crowded at least on the day my family visited. There were about 7-8 other families there which creates a more relaxing visit.
You can get up close and personal with the dinosaurs, within reason. Obviously I wouldn’t recommend climbing on the dinosaurs but, with supervision, they can get close to them and feel them to their heart’s content.
Sprout wanted to feel the dino’s teeth but once he got THIS close, he decided that it was a “little scary” and was soon off to explore other dinosaurs.
Admission is currently $6 for adults and $5 for children under 11. It’s free for children under 2.
Summer hours are 9:30 – 6 p.m. and off-season the hours are 9:30-5:30. They are closed January and February. When you finish your visit, there is a big gift shop if you want to have something to bring home as a lasting souvenir.
Our little Sprout was THRILLED with his visit. He is almost three so there you have it – one toddler who gives it two thumbs up. His parents also highly recommend it. These small roadside attractions are quickly becoming a thing of the past, which is a shame. Not everything has to be as slick and over-the-top as Disney World to put a big smile on your child’s face and a great memory in their heart.
I got up (early) this morning to help with Sprout since his mommy still can’t lift him out of the crib. We came downstairs and I went to feed the dogs. Whoops, the dog food container hadn’t been filled up last night. Sprout’s daddy had been assigned that job since the big bag of dog food is too heavy for my daughter or me to lift. Well, necessity is the mother of invention so I looked around and decided to grab one of Sprout’s little sippy cups to scoop out food from the big dog bag into the smaller container.
It worked and soon I had the small dog container filled back up.
“Hmm, I need to be sure to wash that cup,” I thought.
I got the french toast sticks baked per my daughter’s instructions and put some aside for the Sprout. I grabbed a cup and filled it with milk for the little guy who was clamoring for his morning drink.
We finally sat down for breakfast and the Sprout wanted more milk.
I grabbed his cup and jumped up to refill it and as I did, I looked over at the sink and noticed that the cup I’d used for the dog food wasn’t on the counter.
“Did you put that cup I used to fill the dog food up in the dishwasher?,” I asked my daughter.
“What cup?” she replied. “I haven’t touched any cup today. Why?”
“Um, not to worry,” I assured her. “Your brother once ate a dog biscuit and thought it was a cooky. A little extra protein isn’t going to hurt Sprout.”
Oh, man, do I ever need some coffee that isn’t cold by the time I get to sipping it AND some extra sleep.
So there I was, in the middle of the night, stumbling back from a trip down the hall to the bathroom. I crawled back into bed and was just starting to drift off to sleep when I heard a big truck going past the house. I know, I know…that’s probably not too unusual in most locations but my daughter lives in a VERY rural area in a small development surrounded by farmland. There shouldn’t be any trucks coming into their cul-de-sac at 2:52 a.m.
Of course, I HAD to get up and see what the ruckus was. I peeked out my bedroom window and noticed flashing lights at the end of the cul-de-sac. I heard beeping. I thought, “Golly, the neighbors must have a fire or an emergency.”
I kept an eye on things and waited to see what the vehicle was going to do. It finally backed up and SLOWLY crawled past our house. I couldn’t quite make out what kind of truck it was but it seemed to be very big and had running lights along the side.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was a garbage truck,” I reflected.
Naturally, my mind started to come up with all sorts of scenarios. I wondered if some thieves had come in the night and cleared out valuables at the house at the end of the street. I glanced over at the clock and noted the time.
“When the police come to interview potential witnesses, I can tell them exactly what time the robbery occurred,” I thought, all the while wondering why my son-in-law wasn’t pacing in the foyer with a firearm, waiting to protect his family.
I seemed to hear that truck on the other streets and wondered if it was hitting specific targets. Eventually I fell asleep.
When I told my daughter about it in the morning, she laughed and said, “That was the garbage truck, Mom.”
Garbage truck? Are you kidding me? What garbage collectors go around a sleeping neighborhood at 2:53 freakin’ a.m. in the morning?
“We’re used to it by now,” she assured me. “Don’t even hear it.”
Well, obviously not. Me? I’m still shaking my head over that nocturnal trash collection.
It’s Wednesday and we are still standing. Little Sprout is keeping us on our toes but overall, he is a sweet and funny boy to babysit while Mommy and Daddy are in the hospital with his little brother.
We DID have one minor meltdown this morning.
“NO, I don’t want to wear the dinosaur shirt,” wailed Sprout.
“Then pick one of these three,” I offered.
“I don’t want those. I want to wear THIS (pointing to his pajamas),” he insisted.
“You either pick one of these shirts or Nannie will pick one for you,” I held firm. He didn’t and I picked.
“NOOOOOO, I don’t want those socks. NOOOO, I want a sleeping diaper not the morning diaper. NOOOO, those socks hurt,” he continued.
We changed the diaper, changed shirts, and I let him pick out a different pair of socks.
“I want MILK!”, he wailed.
“Then let’s go downstairs and get some,” I offered.
“NOOOOOO!”, the weeping and gnashing of teeth continued.
“Then I can’t help you, Bud,” I told him.
Just then, Bailey the cat walked into his room and his face brightened when I suggested we try to beat Bailey downstairs. Crisis averted and it was all smiles the rest of the morning all the way to school.
I find it rather funny that he is now insisting that I drive instead of Papa. I’m not sure why he feels I’m better suited for being behind the wheel unless he equates his mommy’s car with a lady driving it.
We also got to see little Spike while the Sprout was in school. He is opening his eyes now and generally being a very content baby.
Supper went off without a hitch last night and Sprout devoured his corn on the cob and ate not only his roll, but also his Papa’s. He also took five good bites of the grilled chicken and some of the zucchini before we gave him a little slice of cake.
He was a happy camper and WE were ready for bed.
Our fourth grandson (and fifth grandchild) arrived yesterday morning at 9:55 a.m. Nana and Papa couldn’t be prouder of little Spike. Of course, that’s not what his actual name is but since all of our grandkids have “S” nicknames, I decided that Sweet Pea, Spud, Sprout, and Scooter needed a “Spike” to complete the picture.
He’s already nursing well with quite a good appetite. We’ve also been told that he soothes himself by sucking on his hands. His daddy took a cute video of the nurses giving him his first checkup and he kept alternating between crying jags (Spike has very healthy lungs) and quick cat naps.
We think he might have lovely reddish hair like his brother, Sprout but we’ll know more as the days go by.
Speaking of Sprout, his daddy’s side of the family arrived the previous night to cook dinner and they let Sprout help frost the cake. He LOVED that job. Our son-in-law’s mom made a great shrimp scampi meal which introduced me to something new. Have you ever heard of zoodles?
Apparently they are zucchini noodles made with a tool called a “zoodler.” We had a good laugh when we were serving the scampi and as we pulled the spaghetti out of the pan, one long greenish strand just kept on coming and coming and coming out of the pot.
“What in the world is that?” I asked. I’d never seen a spaghetti that long.
“It’s a zoodle,” explained my daughter. She explained that it helps if you occasionally break them up as you use the zoodler. If you want to check out the tool that you use, this will take you to one on Amazon.
Today we’re heading off to visit Spike and his parents while the Sprout is in preschool. So far he has been very good for Papa and me, only occasionally asking for his mommy. When I explain that Mommy is still in the hospital with Baby Spike but will be home in a few days, he seems ok with that.
At the end of the day, though, when Papa and I are collapsed on the sofa with our feet up, dozing off to the news, I can easily understand why it is a lot easier to be a full-time parent when you’re younger.