sitting at table
in my own dirty kitchen
it’s nice to be home
I don’t have a lot of time to blog right now because I have to unpack and if I don’t do it right this very second everything will just sit in the suitcases for weeks and weeks until we wear all of our vacation clothes and I finally have to do laundry.
Plus, my mother-in-law is cleaning the wee one’s room right now and I feel guilty sitting here on the computer.
Vacation highlights for you:
Me, sick, on the couch.
Me, coughing, on the couch.
Me, blowing my nose, on the couch.
The wee one, nose running like crazy while his legs were running like crazy, refusing to rest on the couch.
The wee-er one, running nose, on the couch.
Me, eating Ludins cherry throat drops, on the couch.
My dad, running to the store for SudaCare menthol-y plug-in thingamajiggers.
My mom, fretting over the poor sick kiddos (and me).
Many, many relations all contaminated with the Texas Plague, sure to be sick exactly on Christmas Day.
Me, hacking my brains out, on the airplane.
The wee one, making friends with a soldier, on the airplane.
The wee-er one, behaving quite nicely despite having a cold, on the airplane.
Us, home, exhausted, happy, and sad we didn’t get to spend more time OFF of the couch while we were on our trip. But it was great fun. It’s always nice to see trees and red dirt and people who look like me, but aren’t me, and who can tell great stories and feed me chocolate and ham and pinto beans, and hold my baby when she’s crying, and entertain the wee one, and allow me to go to the bathroom – all alone – for a whole week.
Shew. It’s good to be home. But sad to say to say good-bye.