Yesterday I rounded up my posse and we headed down to Umeå, a town about an hour-and-a-half’s drive south of here. We were meant to meet up with some other American girls for lunch and ex-pat bonding, but after getting a late start out of here and some creative map-reading in downtown Umeå, we ending up being about an hour late to the restaurant. We did get our lunch–mine was fantastic, but the others gave theirs only mediocre reviews–and an hour or so of chit-chat with the others before they had to leave with their tired/restless kids. I would have liked to spend more time with them, but I understand all too well that once the kids reach their limit there’s no point in trying to carry on.

It was all to the good, though, because Debbie, Helena, Melanie, little Edwin, and I continued on our own and made the most of a rare afternoon away in the big city. We did a little shopping, drank some amazing frappés, and did much laughing. It was a lot of fun, but by the time I finally made it home just before eight o’clock in the evening, I was more than ready to be back with my babies. I was away for nine hours in total, which is the longest I’ve been away from Petra since she was born. I was thinking about that a little after I dropped off the last member of my entourage and was driving home — if I had a full-time job, I’d be away from her for at least that long every day, five days a week. Though I did it when Lydia was a baby, I can hardly imagine having to do it now, and I’m very thankful that I don’t have to.