It's been two weeks

since my Girl returned home, yet her presence still feels almost foreign and unfamiliar. Her small body sprouted suddenly upward within the past two months and she has left behind virtually all traces and reminders of the small little girl she once was. Elbows and knobby knees have taken an entirely new role when standing next to her. And those legs. Oh those legs that once held onto the faint whispers of baby fat and Wiggles dance moves have given way to long, lean and tanned appendages that haven’t quite found their purpose. She’s clumsy and awkward as her budding pre-teendom struggles to emerge and her mother struggles to accept. She’s only barely eight years old and yet, every so often I catch a passing glimpse of the young woman she will become and it’s agonizingly beautiful. Watching your daughter grow into her own is like sowing and nurturing the most exquisite flower garden. Other than a slight ‘tude adjustment, she’s quite irresistible.

All three of my proverbial ducks are back in a row and it hasn’t taken long to reshape and replace the chunk of my heart that went awol for a few weeks. My sweet Boy is taller, smarter and ever the wonderful big brother he left home as. It would be a drastic understatement to say he’s a joy to have home again; he keeps the Papoose out of my hair so I can actually shave my legs or pee. Thrice the laundry it seems, double the grocery bill and a mother who can exhale in relief. Sometimes I try to explain the frustrations and exceptions that a blended family experiences, but I don’t know why I bother. It can’t be gotten unless you’ve got one.

Sweet August, humid is thy name! Remind me why we didn’t set up the pool this year? Right, something about selling the house and the kids being gone. Funny, the house is still ours and the kids are home. Ay-yi-yi!