April, 2019

26 Hours in London “You’ll write about this. I mean, it’s a blog post: ‘Mom guilt and why it’s never ending.’” “No matter what you do…” I said. “No matter what you do,” Jenn said shaking her head while hailing a cab. We had been in London for 26 hours (well, almost 28 if you count the hour and a half it took to get through customs when we landed), when I got the call: “You need to come home.” Everett had been admitted to the hospital for a severe allergic reaction to Penicillin. At least at that point they thoughtthat’s what it was. For the sake of me being a virgo story, let me give ...Read More