I'm in Chicago right now.
Actually, I landed at 7:30, after a flight in which I wanted to punch the guy behind me after he pulled my hair and pushed my seat repeatedly. I moved to another seat - and the guy moved behind me. It was not a pleasant time.
I'm here, and I'm in a hotel room of my very own, working with a coworker - a luxury that I don't have as a work from home employee. It's very, very nice.
I went for a long walk through downtown Chicago - I've been here twice and I was astonished at how much I remembered. I went to the American Girl store for my girls - I did *not* buy them the Saige doll OR the outfits that they requested. They each got a book. I'm a mean mom, and A-ok with that.
I took myself to lunch at Giordanos and then bought a cupcake.
Of course I did. I am likethis with the cupcakes.
I mostly just walked and looked at cool stores. While I walked, I thought about how much I love my family, and how much I do for my family - and while I was walking, I was noticing the homeless people, who are in every city and town but seem to be more visible in the big cities. All of those people are someone's children. Someone's mother is worried about them, they have (possibly) brothers and sisters and cousins and grandparents. They were children in first grade, teens who probably went to prom, who got driver's licenses and did book reports, studied spelling words and sweated over memorization of the multiplication tables.
And I wondered - how would I feel if one of my kids, the kids that I turn myself inside out for, the kids that I lose sleep over, the ones that I drive everywhere and go without for so that they can have - well, I just can't think about it here, because I really want to respect people's privacy - both those known to me and those who aren't.