Yesterday afternoon the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find a pile of boxes on my doorstep as the mail lady was hustling back down the driveway. They were our classic holiday packages we are blessed to be spoiled with, always from my mom. She’s sent me packages since the day I moved out. My favorite story is when I was living in France and got a package, one of many during my stay. My host mother declared that my mom must miss me beau coup, or at least that’s what I think she said. All I could do was laugh and tell her all about how this is normal, and in fact I receive many more packages when living stateside.
Nowadays instead of
booze grocery money and care packages filled with Oreos, they’re filled with, well, Oreos still, but also goodies and outfits for the girls. This one had so much Easter goodness that Norah has been dressed in Easter themed clothes since Wednesday, I may currently have a stomach ache from eating too much candy and Gwen may have been bribed with jelly beans prior to nap time.