It's bound to happen; Murphy has a law that says so–

You commit to writing 31 days in a row, something you haven't done in y.e.a.r.s.…

And not just to write about anything, but to write about parenting…

And not just about parenting, but about parenting teens and tweens….

You're asking for trouble.

Thankfully, my version of "trouble" isn't severe; let's just say relationships have been a little s t r a i n e d  and t e s t e d since the series began. 

Then writing deadlines loom.

Writing deadlines loom and work picks up speed.

Writing deadlines loom and work picks up speed and your juggling balls are thinking about dropping.

Writing deadlines loom and work picks up speed and your juggling balls are thinking about dropping and YOU'RE GOING OUT OF TOWN FOR THE WEEKEND TO SEE THE 5-0 CLEMSON TIGERS WHO HAVEN'T DONE THIS WELL SINCE *YOU* WERE IN COLLEGE AND THEY WON THE NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP AND THEN PROMPTLY GOT PLACED ON PROBATION THE REST OF YOUR COLLEGE CAREER.

And then you get a text from your first-born daughter.

Your first-born daughter who left for college in August and hasn't been home since.

Your first-born daughter who left for college in August and hasn't been home since and who could be home in less than an hour.

Your first-born daughter who left for college in August and hasn't been home since and who could be home in less than an hour and whom YOU MISS TERRIBLY AND LIKE, NOT JUST LOVE, AND WHO YOU DISCOVERED **JUST TODAY** NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN FLIP VIDEOS OF AND YOU ALMOST CRIED EXCEPT SHE MADE YOU LAUGH INSTEAD BECAUSE SHE'S SO DANG FUNNY.

And then everything was okay.

The end.