The tour.

Four states. Three capital cities. Thirteen changes of crib/pack n' play/bed. Thirty-five days.

We have arrived back to the beltway from our annual Midwestern tour. And everyone asks, "How was your trip?!" And I reply with the gold standard, "Good!" But I never know where to begin. We covered a whole lot of ground and did so many things! But from the first crack open of the first of many pack n' plays at our first overnight stop, I had an utopia-crashing realization:

What have I gotten myself into?! This is NOT going to be like the past two summers of mama and the big girls. I have a BABY! And she naps! And precariously sleeps through the night! How on earth are we going to have our rock n' roll, state-skippin' ways with her in tow?! Noooooooooooooooo!

But, as it turned out, it was possible. And we did more driving this summer than we have any other. Spent more days in the Midwest than we have any summer. And actually, had less down time than we have any other summer back. For which I am both thankful and just the teeniest bit regretful. Thankful, because the girls always had something to look forward to. Thankful, because we had ridiculously few times when the girls were legitimately bored and pined to be home. Thankful, because we had so, SO much quality time with the folks we so desperately miss when we are home. Thankful, because God seriously ordered our steps in allowing so many special experiences like the summers before.

And as I think about the flip side, I realize that the lack of down time had a bit to do with our touring, but more to do with, back to Exhibit A, the baby. Heretofore I was ready to blame our schedule and the July heat for the lack of time spent soaking up the serenity of my folks' back-forest wonderland from my deck swing vantage point. Last summer, pregnant me was out there morning, day, night, savoring morsels of Midwestern delicious-ness to the soundtrack of birds, frogs and locusts (peppered with the occasional scream of hogs from across the pond, but you get the picture), reading, communing, just being and taking in everything that the Lord was dishin' to all of my senses. And I returned rested. Like from a sabbatical. (which un-thinking me just realized must share its root word with sabbath! Ahhhh, truth!) Bu-ut, those dwelling moments are straight up scarce when that baby has gone from kickin' around inside to cruising around outside.

So am I being honest with my knee-jerk, affirmative response? Yes. Do I feel like I just returned from a vacation, in the personal, versus geographical, sense of the word? Well...I think I am still hammering that one out.