I met the hurdle of singing ten new songs with an entirely new band for the first time. After fixing some key issues in the sound check, it went great. It was also great to see my sister and two cousins, who are the last vestiges of my north eastern heritage. We swore like sailors, bashed Trump and ate cake. It was awesome.
I had a terrible moment on the airplane heading to Boston when I happened to glance at my phone and there was a (frantic looking) text and voicemail message from the kids' summer camp asking who was going to pick up Bobby. I'm not sure when these appeared - maybe as we were taking off? I still had two hours before landing and didn't know what to do. It was Bobby's field trip day, and despite my having walked the babysitter to the pick up location and introducing her to the counselors, there was some kind of mix up. I spent twenty horrid moments trying to figure out how to get wireless on the plane so I could FB message the BF who could then call the babysitter to see what happened. Turns out what happened was the bus had gotten back a little early (4:30 instead of 5:00); she picked him up at 4:50 and everything was fine. But ugh! Did that get my heart racing, imaging my kid sitting in a police station and the babysitter in a car accident or some such thing.
It's so scary leaving kids behind, even when you trust the people left in charge. Every time I drop them off at camp or school or leave them with a sitter I just have to turn off that part of my brain that says "death", as all parents do. As they get older they can do more and more things and can, and should have, more freedom. But boy is it hard. Every time I pick them up, and we're all in the car together, I feel like I can breathe a little easier. Having kids really is like putting your heart on the outside of your body.