Welcome Home!

Have you ever come home from vacation with a pit in your stomach because you knew that reality was waiting right inside your front doors? That's exactly what happened to me early this morning (12:15 a.m., to be exact)!

We have had one of the busiest summers ever, vacationing, visiting family, going to family reunions, traveling for business, etc., and as much as I've enjoyed all of the wonderful time we've spent together as a family, I was thankful school started today so that we could start a routine again. This past week Dan and I traveled to New York City for a little get-away to celebrate our 10th anniversary. We had a wonderful time together--sightseeing, riding the subway, shopping, seeing Broadway shows, and talking about the kids, of course. Then we came home.

Our plane was delayed for over an hour so we walked through our doors after midnight. I had given myself plenty of pep talks to prepare for the chaos and reality of real life again, but I've learned that no preparation is ever really adequate. I went in to steal a kiss from my boys and knew as soon as I opened the door to their bedroom that something was not right. It smelled horrible! I turned on the hall light to get a closer look and found my sweet little baby sound asleep in a puddle of throw-up. He was matted with it and so was his bedding. We had no choice but to wake him up and bath him. Dan plopped him in the tub while I stripped his bedding and threw it in the washer. The poor child didn't know what to think, especially when we looked at him in the light and noticed that one of his eyes was glued shut, thus requiring eye drops (I certainly would not respond well to this kind of treatment suddenly in the middle of the night).

I was pretty good-natured about it all, laughing to myself about the welcome we'd received. Then we went to the grocery store today and my laughter nearly turned into tears. It wasn't when my little guy screamed for the first ten minutes of our trip because he wanted to drive his own little shopping cart around like his older sister; it wasn't even when his shopping cart tipped over and the long metal pole announcing that he was a "shopper in training" happened to slice into a display of 12-pack cans of coke, splattering coke all over me, my groceries, and the grocery store (no, the coke didn't splatter--it gushed out like a geyser and started pooling on the grocery store floor. I was so covered in it that my flip-flops no longer flipped and flopped--they were literally stuck to my feet from the sticky coke syrup); I think it was when Boston tipped his cart over and dumped the contents out FIVE times after the coke episdode that I began to lose my grip a little bit.

The phrase, "Welcome home" just kept repeating in my head. Our vacation had definitely come to a complete and abrupt end. Oh well, that's motherhood, and I still wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world!