I flew up to Georgia this past weekend to get in a few days of girl time with Heidi.  Any second now Leola will arrive on the scene and goodbye any meaningful conversation between Heidi and myself for several months.

As Jonathan drove me to the airport, he diagrammed the Atlanta terminal where I’d be landing (though I’ve been there several times), showing me the quickest route out once I disembark. Which is understandable since several years ago he was at the Atlanta airport twice a week for a year. (yeah, try getting pregnant with that schedule)

But his insistence that I call him the moment I landed – and then again once I climbed aboard the shuttle heading north – and then again once I left the shuttle and waited for Bob and Heidi to pick me up - was really a bit much.

“Dude, you do remember I’ve done quite a lot of traveling by myself – most of it international, right? I’ve been all over first, second, and third world countries across four continents… I can handle the Atlanta airport.”

And Jonathan replied, “But all that traveling was before the boys… now you’re much less disposable.”