Usually, when people write these re-entry sort of posts, they’re all about how they wish they could leave their boring homes behind and be back on a beach. There’s laundry at home, and no one makes your bed every day, and I was really annoyed by the lack of bedtime chocolate and fresh bottled water on my night stand last night. Even so, we’re home and I’m never leaving again.
We had a great vacation, and if you pointed me toward an empty lounge chair and told me to keep it warm for the next several hours, I wouldn’t turn you down, but MAN am I happy to be back. I love my house. I love that it was 65 and all but raining when we walked out of the airport yesterday morning. I missed my kids so much that I all but ran from baggage claim to our car yesterday.
Again, our vacation was fabulous. I have so much to say about it, but for now I’ll just say that we needed it so much. Before we left, every little thing put me that much closer to the edge. I was screamy and sleep deprived and I needed to be the neediest person in the room for a few days. My mom had our house cleaned while we were gone and I walked through every room just appreciating all of our stuff, right where it belongs. Our fridge and freezer were… not cold when we came home, and we ran out of propane while barbecuing for guests last night, and STILL, none of that made me want to head back to the airport. (I need a serious break from airports. I’ve been in five in the past week, and they all smell exactly the same. How is that possible?)
My kids are all shiny and new; Bubette says new things, (“ten toes, two feet!”) and Bub seems so charming and grown up, and my mom’s housekeeper even cleaned the inside of my toaster over. It’s good to be home, be-Legoed kitchen table and all.