Sunday: Big T chooses his own outfit for Palm Sunday. Realizing he will be in the children's processional, waving a palm branch and singing (and whining that he is too old for this), he selects a pair of corduroy slacks several sizes too small. With his slim figure, that means they fit in the waist but are several inches too short. As in, skin showing between crew socks and pants hem. I call them capris. He calls me out: "I don't care what people think; that's not why we're going to church." Guess the lesson was for me.
Monday:Up at o'dark hundred to catch a very early flight to Phoenix for our annual meeting extravaganza. With the economy and record-low prices being paid to our farmer funders (right now, they don't get as much for their milk as it takes to care for their cows), going out on Sunday evening (extra hotel night) was not a possibility. Realize there is a two-hour time difference, making it even earlier there. Which means our banquet that evening doesn't conclude until 11 p.m. body-clock time. Yikes -- awake for 19 hours!
Tuesday: More of the same. Annual meeting concludes at noon, and we roll right into a national forum session. I am assigned to work with a CEO from a sister organization, always a pleasure. We have worked together before and seem to really click. When the others go off to a group dinner, three colleagues and I go offsite for a restaurant dinner that combines pleasure with review of new logo concepts. Unfortunately, we're not wild about any of them.
Wednesday: Final day of the meeting marathon. Head off to the airport with high hopes of being home just about Big T's bedtime. However, a stubborn airplane flap refuses to close, which means the second engine won't start. Not a good idea. We get off the airplane and have dinner while a new aircraft comes in -- I turn off the lights at 1:30 a.m.
Thursday: A slow start finds me in my bathrobe as the school bus pulls away. First time ever! I am down to business by about 9:30, though. House cleaners come and make it possible for me to host Easter dinner this coming Sunday. Big T is invited to sleep over at a buddy's house; no school on Good Friday.
Friday:Big T's host mom calls to let me know he is outdoors with all of the neighborhood kids; not sure when he'll be rolling home. No problem; I concentrate on the four conference calls of the day. Big T phones home to ask if he can stay over at pal #2's house this night. After conferring with the parents there, we agree, but I insist that Big T stop at home to change underwear and jeans, not to mention showing his face around here. He greets me with a big hug and pedals back to pal's house. Husband and I take advantage of the free evening with dinner at Chipotle and a movie (I Love You Man, which is crude but very, very funny. I laughed out loud through most of it.).
Saturday: No Big T as of 10:30 a.m., so we call the host family. The boys are out for a bike ride; they'll send him home when he's worn out his welcome. He calls us at noon. The bike ride took them to buddy #3's house, where they plan to kill time/stall/play for a while. The phone will be our lifeline as Husband dusts winter off the deck furniture, uncovers and hoses out the backyard pond. I've made an Easter grocery list and hope to plant pansies.
I might see my son again before dark. Or not.
