You know how they say "it takes a village to raise a child"? Well, it may not be a "rule" - I mean, we made the decision to move our son to a town where we knew exactly no one, and it's been great in many ways, if sometimes challenging - but having someone who gets exactly what you're going through standing right there next to you so you can do the raising together? It's not just "easier." Or "more manageable."

It's those things, yes...but mostly it just makes it easier to laugh at the things that can feel not-so-funny when you're all on your own.

When Morgan and I were talking on the phone last week and decided that I'd get on a flight and come to San Francisco for a few days, it was about more than just "wanting" to spend some time together. Both of us were in a moment where we were feeling something that went beyond "overwhelmed" and straight into "I can't do this" territory, and I think we both needed to see that it was okay and that how we were feeling was not just fine, but normal, and have someone to look at when all three of our children started screaming at the top of their lungs in unison about nothing at all...and crack up.

I've laughed so much these past few days.

Early early early this morning, my son and I boarded a flight for San Francisco to see my friend Morgan and her family. I was so nervous about a solo cross-country flight with a two-year-old that I had the carry-on bag packed a good four days in advance with every single thing I could possibly need over the course of 5 1/2 hours: iPad, ten thousand cars, surprise toy for emergencies, pasta, yogurt snacks, fruit snacks, cracker snacks, snacks snacks and more snacks and some snacks for good measure.

Everything, that is, except for an extra pair of pants.

And when one is worried about one's son becoming dehydrated and practically gives him an orange juice IV for the duration of the flight, that is an unfortunate item to forget.

Sometimes something will be on my mind, upsetting me, and I'll tell Kendrick about it, and even as the words are coming out of my mouth I'll know what the answer is. One of the best side-effects about writing a blog is that it has made me work much, much harder to figure out the reality behind situations that can feel unmanageable - both because I spend a lot of time circling around issues in my head, making sure I've unpacked them completely, before ever sitting down to write...and also because I answer lots and lots of reader questions here that have forced me to go back and explore similar situations from my own past in an attempt to figure out what was really going on.

I know exactly what's going on with this thing that's on my mind. But knowing what's going on and being able to understand it on a deep-down level are two different things.

I love watching my son and my husband playing. I love how much they love each other; I love what an incredible father Kendrick is; I love how completely obsessed Indy is with every single thing that Kendrick says and does. But in the past couple of weeks something new has happened, and it's that my son no longer wants very much to do with me when his dad is around. He wants daddy to pick him up, wants daddy to play with him; he cries when Kendrick takes so much as a step into the other room, and having me hold him instead doesn't seem to be a comfort. When Kendrick isn't around it's totally business as usual - snuggling, lots of "lah doo Mama"s (that's "love you" in two-year-old-speak), laughing and playing and wonderful...but when Kendrick comes back, my son jumps straight out of my arms and into my husband's.