Trash Truck FOMO

My babies are at the beach this week with Mamaw, Papaw, Mom, and Dad. And before anyone starts clutching their pearls—yes, I was invited. I stayed behind because I had back-to-back Bilmuri concerts on deck. Priorities. Do I regret it? Not really. Do I miss the hell out of them anyway? Absolutely.

I helped pack their little suitcases, got my goodbye snuggles in, and sent them off like a responsible adult who definitely wasn’t planning to cry later. Mamaw even showed up with Bubby’s new obsession: a plush trash truck. He treated it like the second coming of Santa—parading around the room like a tiny hype man, chanting “Trash truck!!” to every single person until we all got the memo. Trash Truck, obviously, scored a VIP ticket to the beach. Every picture I’ve seen since? That thing is lurking in the background like a neon green Where’s Waldo.

Sis, meanwhile, is out here speed-running childhood. First time in the pool with no floaties, standing in the shallow end like she’s Poseidon’s heir. I’m proud as hell, but also losing my mind over how fast she’s growing. I blink and she’s bigger, braver, bolder—and I’m over here feral about it.

And here’s the heartbreak: I’m not their mom, but their mom is my sister and my best friend. Because of that, I love those kids like they’re my own. My heart breaks a little every single day when I leave them, so being away for a whole week? It’s brutal. Like, the kind of ache that makes me jealous of a stuffed trash truck.

The FOMO clocked me by day two. Poolside frozen drinks, babies snoozing on lounge chairs like retired celebrities, dinner outfits sharp enough for a Michelin star. A week in kid world is basically a whole season. They’ll come back with new songs, new vocab, and inside jokes I’ll never catch up on. I’ll be standing there like the substitute teacher who didn’t get the syllabus.

But that’s auntie life. I don’t need to be there for every single second—I just need to be there when they barrel back in. Sis ready to unload every detail like TMZ, Bubby launching himself at me with a tackle-hug, Trash Truck smushed between us like the third wheel it is.

And that’s the moment I’ll be waiting for.