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All your dreams are on their way

I'm sitting in the living room listening to the kids fight in the basement, I'm not sure over what. Jacob is crying crocodile tears and Elizabeth is yelling at him.

And suddenly it's silent. A better mom than me would probably go investigate, but I'm comfortable and writing for the first time in too long, so unless I'm informed that there's blood or vomit, I'm staying right here.

This summer has been a mostly happy jumble of road trip, baseball games, day camps, and swimming. The kids and my mom and I drove to Florida and back and it was mostly really lovely. Both kids are on baseball teams so most nights we have either a practice or a game to go to. Elizabeth went back to Camp Maybury and had a great time as usual, and this week Jacob is actually at Camp Explorations for the morning session - the first time I've sent either of them to my old program. I love having a membership to the neighborhood pool. We go as often as possible, and usually the kids find friends there. Last weekend Dan and Jacob went to a Toledo Mud Hens game and then camped in the outfield with some of Jake's cub scout pack. Elizabeth leaves for resident girl scout camp for a few days at the end of the month, and then she and I go to troop camp in August. She'll go back to camp later in August with Dan for daddy-daughter Star Wars girl scout camp too. And then the week before school starts, Jacob is going to Pokemon day camp, which he is super geeked about.

We have come so far from the chaos of last summer, and I remain so grateful and humbled for the peace this home has brought to my heart. Nothing anywhere is ever perfect, but I'm learning to live with that too, and enjoy what we have without yearning for what we don't. Because we have so much, and keeping up with the Joneses is a game everyone loses.

A lot of friends from high school had their 20th reunion recently, which means mine will be sometime next year. That combined with transferring a bunch of old home videos to DVD has me in a strange headspace that I am trying to navigate with the grace of a 37 year old married mother of two, not the clumsiness of an awkward, jilted 17 year old. I think I'm mostly succeeding, but I still don't know that I am succeeding enough to actually employ that grace at my own reunion in a year. Time shall tell. Time shall tell if I even decide to go, honestly.

I hear feet pounding up the basement stairs. Bets on whether someone is coming to tattle?