There should be sympathy cards for having to go back to work after a vacation so long we forgot all our passwords!

Upon pulling in our yard, we hastily bailed out of the pickup — leaving our stacks of luggage in the back. I counted the ducks, the kids went looking to see if Axle had her kittens, and my husband went off in search of his cows.

Later that evening, after all the animals were all accounted for, we began the task of unpacking our trip of a lifetime, and settling back down to regular farm life. Soon the living room was covered in laundry piles. The kitchen table was spread out in mail. The dogs were as anxious for our attention as the cats were to ignore us. And my husband’s phone rang constantly. Playing catch-up had begun.

The next day was busy, but with a little bit of jet lag, we had all eaten breakfast and were ready to tackle the day — by 3 a.m. It didn’t take long to find our natural rhythm — farm life seems good at that — but what was surprisingly hard was the glasses.

By the end of our first day home, we had managed to use every drinking glass in the cupboard. I ran an entire dishwasher load of nothing but drinking glasses that night. Apparently we had spent too long on a cruise, grabbing a new glass every time you walk through the dining room!

On day two of being home, my oldest had scheduled the test for his driver’s permit. Ever since he could talk, my husband and I have been telling him stories about how the day we had turned 15, we were at the DMV, getting that warm piece of plastic that meant we could finally drive something more than farm machinery!

It was a rite of passage. A memory he wanted to have also. Years ago, he had checked the calendar to make sure his birthday fell on a weekday.

Then we booked tickets for this last trip. Both kids were thrilled — they love traveling almost as much I do — until our oldest saw the itinerary. His birthday would be spent in Helsinki and Amsterdam — not at the DMV.

We tried telling him Europe was so much cooler than getting your permit on your birthday, but he wasn’t totally buying it. His birthday was pretty memorable, though, even without a permit. We had cake and pizza in Finland, then we caught a two-hour flight back to Holland.

We’d only been in the air half an hour when the flight attendants came to the back of the plane (my husband says we fly lavatory) holding a tray out to my son.

“We hear it’s someone’s birthday,” they said in a heavy accent.

One of the women stops mid-sentence and exclaims, “You’re American? Then perhaps your mum or dad would like the champagne instead.”

With that she handed us a bottle of bubbly, and set the rest of the tray of goodies in front of him. There were cookies, and candy, several different juices in glass goblets, a cupcake, and a card signed by the flight crew.

“Anyone who spends their birthday flying deserves a little something special,” the young woman smiled at him and he blushed.

It wasn’t the birthday that he’d always imagined, but before long he was standing in line at the DMV, waiting to get his picture taken. He didn’t get to come home with that warm piece of plastic like my husband and I did at that age, either. Instead, he brought home a piece of copy paper that said his permit would be arriving by mail shortly.

Time changes things. Life changes things. But what didn’t change was the grin of pure teenager pride showing in the mugshot. I recognized the same smile from my own permit all those years ago.

We’d only been home a week before we had a bummer lamb in the house. Axle had the sweetest long-haired calico kittens, and we were slowly starting to sleep until 5 a.m. again. We soon began using a single glass again. We finally either remembered or reset all of our passwords, and my husband was checking out all the local auctions in the evenings. In other words, life came roaring back.

But my oldest son has grown — and not just in stature. He is a little older, a little wiser, a little more independent — and it’s only in part due to that new piece of plastic in his pocket.

He’s growing up so fast. I’m so thankful we were able to be gone as long as we were, because todays are becoming tomorrows at an alarming rate.