Peter, Paul and Mary: A Theme

A few weeks before arriving home from my junior year (sophomore actually?) in college, I called my father to tell him that I wanted to do some backpacking that summer and while my memory of his reaction is not quite enthusiasm, he dutifully made my wishes come true.  It could be that we only went backpacking once (for those of you who don't know, I had to earn $3000 each summer to pay for part of my tuition and so I had to be choosy about taking time off; my father was also employed and paying quite a bit more toward said tuition and possibly didn't want to drag me through the woods on his vacation).  It could be that we went more than once.  But I sort of doubt it because I remember feeling happy that I got to hear all his army stories (that's what we talked about mostly) but also struck multiple times each day with the realization that backpacking is only fun when it's over.

Anyway, for some reason -- perhaps the fact that I tended toward the hippie-side of things in college and I liked listening to straight up folk music at times; perhaps the fact that I was going back to college -- I sang FOR THAT ENTIRE THREE DAY SLOG -- "I'm leaving on a jet plane."  And so my dad also sang it and anybody who knows my dad knows that means he sang approximately five words of it over and over and over.  Anyway.

Tonight is the night before we are leaving.  On a jet plane.  So it popped into my head and dear God please let it pop away tonight as I sleep.  (But it was nice to have that memory.)  And also.  I feel like I spend a lot of my life getting ready to leave, you know? 

We are feeling sad, my friends.  London has done one tiny little favor because the temperature has dropped and we are all "weawy cold" as Lulu proclaims multiple times per day.  (This proclamation is made from the fleece sleeping bag attached to her buggy, so actually, she is not "weawy cold.")  It is nice weather in Muscat.  

Tonight Mandy came over and said goodbye to the children she played a significant role in raising until this point, and when she left she took our stroller for her own baby (watch this space on Monday if you are dying to know if it's a boy or a girl like we are:  Tommy thinks it's a girl but his second guess is that it's a boy).  The stroller thing just kills me.  It is the best purchase I made and when we bought it I felt so so so guilty because it was so so so expensive.  But dude.  That stroller together with a tube pass is way cheaper than a car.   And our littles lived in it.  But now they are big.  (Lulu stomps out of the room when we make her angry:  "FINE.  I GO IN MY WOOM."  I'm pretty sure laughing is not the sought-after reaction, but it can be difficult.)

One thing about leaving, though, is you realize who you will miss.  You realize what you have built for yourself.  And here we have so many amazing friends.  Who have loved our children and been so kind and generous and amazing.  We are so sorry to be leaving them, but so happy to know them.

See you later, alligators!  We'll be back.