The kids have been down visiting their mom, grandparents and cousins in Georgia all week. I've been working like a fiend trying not to miss them too much but when they missed their flight Sunday and didn't arrive till this morning I thought I'd burst. They arrived at 9 in the morning at Newark and it took me an hour and a half door to door to get there. That's exactly how long it took them to fly from Atlanta to Newark. I got up at 6:45, got out of the house at 7, took the #1 to the #2 express subway to Penn Station and then New Jersey Transit light rail to Newark Airport. I brought with me their backpacks for school and four packs of Pepperidge Farms Goldfish because it was Ava's day to bring snacks for the class. At the airport train station I took the monorail to their terminal and picked them up. They always look paler, oddly different after I haven't seen them for more than just a few days. The stewardess said they'd been fantastic on the plane and I beamed. Then I reversed the transit process with them, dropped them off at school and then splurged on a cab to get myself home with all their luggage. Four hours of non-stop action.

Once home I had time to shower, write this, put up a HuffingtonPost blog and now I'm running off to office hours at Columbia and then I teach for three hours and then I pick up the kids from school and they I'm going to a book reading tonight at a place that I will give a reading myself next month.

I'm not complaining. I like being busy. And just the fact that they are back safe with me lets my heart rest a bit.