I have to say, the worst part of traveling back and forth between two places is that we never really had a restful weekend. Fridays were always busy with packing, and driving, and then unpacking.
We spent Saturdays working and being busy; doing all the things we should normally do during the week, but that we couldn’t because we weren’t here. (or there, depending on where you’re sitting right now.)
And then Sundays, just never felt restful. We were busy with church and sometimes having people over, which we enjoyed but then we didn’t get a nap, and then we had to pack and try to remember that thing that I forgot last week when we left? What was it? I forgot something every single week. Without fail. Never the same thing twice though. Which either says I always learned my lesson or maybe that I never did.
Anyway, I’m not doing that anymore.
Yep, I decided that I’m just not going to do it anymore. If Mr. French wants to see the kids, he can just drive the 2 1/2 hours each way to do it.
We all moved back! Yay! And he’s working from home. So now our house is filled with jokes about how “You can just do that on your loooong commute to work.” and “Oh, but honey, I need the car today!” and stuff like that.
Ahh, well. I guess you had to be there.