Finley clung to me this morning, her little chin wrinkled with lines of worry as her jaw clenched and her eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t wanna go to camp. I just want to be being with you on this day.”

It was not the way I wanted the day to go. I wanted the three girls to go happily off to camp so that they could get the attention they needed, I could get things done and, in essence, everything would be smooth and controlled. I had to make a decision.

The thing in my gut that comes out every once in a while, let’s call it guilt, made me relent. “Ok, you can come to work.”

What I should have done next was acknowledge that anything I accomplished was a bonus, rather than a guarantee.

As I sit here teetering on frustration, hysterical laughter and defeat, I’d love for you to entertain me (comfort me) with your tales of things not going as you planned…