Does sitting in a car for 4.5 hours to travel 45.6 miles count as exercise?
It better, ’cause that’s all I got today.
But if that doesn’t, does furiously packing a 10 year old’s month away from home count?
Being the Last Minute Lucy that I am, and too exhausted after last night’s race, this morning was a flurry of activity as Thing 3 and I got her life in order for four weeks away from home–one in Maine with my sister and her tribe before she starts 3 weeks of sleep-away camp (also in Maine). She left with (among other things): four swim suits, 19 pair of underwear, 3 pair of socks, a picture of the family, stationary (but no pencils), stamps, 5 books, 3 sweatshirts, a raincoat, 7 pairs of shorts, 2 beach towels, one bath towel, a skirt for vespers service, a sleeping bag and pillow, and Sparkle, her stuffed rabbit. Last year, I used the checklist the camp provided so Thing 3 understood exactly what she was bringing (and correspondingly, what was expected to return home). All her clothing was diligently labeled with a sharpie. This year–nada. Sometimes I think Thing 3 deserves more of the attention usually attributed to a first-born, but then I see her in action–she’s got more problem-solving skills than Thing 1 or 2 put together–and I know she’ll be just fine. But I’m going to miss her so much!