Sunday, April 11, 2010

Stress Level: Rising.

Keith and Ivy have just left for their second annual Daddy/Daughter camping trip with our friend Tristan and his three-year-old Talia.

They are going canoeing.

On a river.

I am sure they will have a wonderful time, but they are out of mobile range until Monday night. It's only two days on the standard calendar but at least four years in terms of mother-stress.

Universe, an order:

Bring. My. People. Back.


  1. I feel sick for you!!! They will be fine but still...

  2. I won't even let Chris take Rosie out the front door without me! (Although she is only 5 weeks old... I may feel differently in a couple of years.) I wait with bated breath for the day he tries to get her on a surfboard...

    I'm sure your people will be fine. Are you listening Universe? Yeah... you'd better be mister.

  3. The universe says "ok".

    But otherwise, best dad ever! Lucky, lucky girls with awesome dads. :-D

  4. They will come back singing 'Camp Granada' maybe with some tadpoles in a jar and tales of eating beef jerky and midnight ghost stories. But they will come home.

  5. Oh, my.

    You have way more guts than I do... I'd be gnawing my fingernails right to the knuckle.

  6. It is a well known fact that people with (or who once owned) red polka dot gumboots are safe as houses. Style cred alone is their safety shield.

    I hope they are safely tucked up in their warm Mama/Lover made bed rightaswesepeak.


Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.