Solsbury Hill

I am spent. It is the fourth day of carting around my Chinese coworkers, bending my brain to think mineral insulated cable, building an operations infrastructure for a 10 year behind the times plant, and having a front row seat to half masticated western food in the mouths of my Chinese kids. And of course, they are not satisfied with whatever I order. Sigh. What can a parent do? Last night, I discovered they don't have shelter for the weekend, so travel agent Annie put together a makeshift tour of Toronto and Niagara Falls. Not bad for someone who's never been to Toronto as an adult. Just when I was about to put the finishing touches on the itinerary, lo and behold, the one credit card amongst the three has expired. Of course. But be gentle in spirit, and pray for divine navigational skills, as now I must deliver and check them into their hotel.

I'm physically tired, lonely, and have eaten my way to whale beachdom. Pretty unattractive, huh? It is draining to have three children; I am now able to commiserate with all you multi-kid parents. If y'all ever need a babysitter, I'm available, if not out of kindness, out of sympathy.

But freedom is near. I can taste it. So much so, I practically danced through the factory this morning as Peter Gabriel sang for me. This afternoon, I will chauffeur the kids back to Toronto, rush back to the airport, and hop a flight to Jersey with a softer, more sensitive willingness to serve my sister, her hubby, and her three tykes.

Grab your things, I've come to take you home.