Is there anything better than arriving home after a trip and collapsing into your own bed? I contend that there is not. Especially if you’ve just driven 900+ miles in a single day and haven’t yet realized that following that delicious night of sleep in your own space you’ll be dealing with The Holiday That Threw Up All Over The House And Also Two Weeks Worth Of Mail And Packages And By The Way The Children Are Still Sick.
Needless to say, last night was delicious. It was around midnight by the time we’d arrived home, dispatched the children upstairs, and unloaded the clown-car-esque packing job my husband managed to do with our vehicle full of Christmas Cheer. We then drifted off in our own gigantic bed (I love my parents dearly, and the guest bed at their house is actually pretty comfy, but the difference between a King and a Full is… substantial), and my last thought before sleep overtook me was, “There’s no place like home.”
Of course, later I woke up to discover that Licorice was stealing all the covers, and as I tugged at the blanket in annoyance, THEN everything was back to normal.
So far today, Otto is the only one who’s managed to 1) get dressed and 2) leave the house. Both kids slept in their clothes and got up late and kind of went, “Huh. I’m already dressed!” Tomorrow it’s back to school and routine, but I cannot muster the energy to care about their slothitude for today, especially considering that I am still in my bathrobe and it’s nearly lunch time.
In my defense:
1) Proving the old adage that I am far too stupid to make coffee in the morning until I’ve had some coffee, this morning I put the coffee on and then, wanting some before the whole pot was done, I removed the pot to pour myself a cup while it was brewing. The machine has a handy little doohickamabobber (technical term) that stops releasing the coffee into the pot when the pot isn’t there, so no problem, right? Well, somehow when I put the pot BACK I must’ve misaligned it, because I wandered off with my cup and shortly thereafter heard Monkey in the kitchen going, “What the—? Hey Mom! I think the coffeemaker exploded!” I don’t know about YOU, but I just love having coffee all over the counter when I haven’t even finished my first cup.
2) I’m pretty sure the dog was convinced we’d moved away forever and were going to live the life of gypsies, constantly roving from one house with a giant dog to another with an unfriendly cat, and so on. Arriving back at ye olde homestead has evoked a level of frenetic glee in Licorice I can only describe as utterly spazztastic. She has been in and out seventeen times this morning alone, as she runs out to survey her domain, back instead to viciously shake all of her toys, and back out again to make sure everything is still there. Half my morning has been spent opening and closing the door for her.
3) I walked into the bathroom in my office this morning and there was a dead bug on the floor. Pleased with my mature response of simply picking it up and flushing it, I thought about how years ago I might’ve just freaked out and screamed, and mentally patted myself on the back for my measured, problem-solving actions. Of course, once the toilet was flushed, water began spraying from the back of the tank for unknown reasons, at which point I DID scream for Otto, and nothing says WELCOME HOME like emergency toilet repair.
4) Chickadee is on day four of antibiotics and still feeling crummy, which could be because of the other immuno-suppressing medication she’s on (maybe that makes recovery take longer?) or could be because she’s not on the right meds (because THAT would be fun); meanwhile, Monkey is “not sick,” he’s just… sleeping a lot, cranky, and has gunk flowing from his ear tubes (you’re welcome!), so I am doing a lot of Damage Control in the form of All Children Should Probably Drink Some Fluids And Chill Out Today Please.
5) Last night we unloaded one motor vehicle into my office which seems to have contained roughly four cars’ worth of stuff, and this morning I couldn’t even get to my computer until I’d moved a bunch of stuff around, and then Otto thought it would be a great idea to also bring in the seventy two boxes in our garage that had been delivered in our absence, because there was absolutely not enough crap in here already. So I am TRYING to work, but first I had to, you know, FIND MY DESK.
I’m glad we went, but I’m ever so much gladder to be home. For a homebody like me, being away for that long is hard, even without all of the calamity that we managed to find. So: We’re back, yayyyyy! Someday things will be back to normal.
Once again, our gifts to the children were positively minimal in comparison to the embarrassment of riches from their dad and relatives, but I was rather pleased with Santa’s assessments of the best ornaments to represent the kids’ year.
For Monkey, a block of Minecraft earth, of course. It represents both his current obsession and the rebuilding of Monkey, himself, through his switch to Hippie School. 2011 will always be remembered (at least by me) as the year we carefully began reassembling the Monkey he’s supposed to be vs. the damage wrought (however unintentionally) by years of trying to make him into the Monkey we thought he “should” be.
For Chickadee, a flute-playing, marching-band Minnie Mouse, of course. She went to Disneyworld on a band trip this past spring and joined the marching band this fall, so it just seemed perfect. Even the smartass, however, Chickie’s comment was, “Hey, how come we don’t get to march in skirts? And… diapers?” (BLOOMERS. I’m pretty sure Minnie is not wearing diapers, but maybe it’s a SUPER HARDCORE BAND she’s in. Who knows?)
I realize this is the time when I should be having deep and profound thoughts about my hopes and dreams and plans for 2012, but right now I am just happy to be home in my messy office with a mountain of laundry awaiting me. And the best part is that I am perfectly okay with that.