We had the opportunity to get away again. And we did something unusual. We rented a house. Generally we stay in a hotel. But at this point, the kids are all so big and most hotels have max 6 people rules (fire codes, bleh). And we’re 7. And it pains me to see money spent on two hotel rooms. Especially for five nights. That’s ten nights. And we’ll all sleep in one room anyways…

So we rented a house in the first block off the waterfront at Beaufort. Divine.

The house was the perfect layout for the family who sleeps in one bed. Queen in the master downstairs and two rooms upstairs; one for the boys and one for the girls.

The baby, er, 5 year old of course slept with us. And the 6 year old moved into the girls’ room (with some resistance from the red head) after the 12 year old crashed in an instant in the boys’ room. So it all worked out.

What’s the point?

We were away and apart. That’s rare. Sure. It was only one floor apart. But that takes courage. Courage from the kids a floor apart *and* courage from the parents who doze off wondering if those precious little people will know to come get them or if they’ll trip down the steps or walk out the door…

All on the heels of Laura Lea, our youngest, turning 5. I am slightly in pieces at this. I nursed for 12 years, one month, three days consecutively. And now my children, well, four of my children are sleeping on a separate floor from me! Not in my own bed?!? Where I can reach out, they can reach out and touch them and they me. Are you kidding me!?!

I cannot comprehend the moment. But I am embracing it, though. I really am. And loving it, and appreciating it. I know I’ve done my role as the momma if they can fly. And they’ve flown. Even if for only a brief trip to the coast. They’ve flown…

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