travel

Vacation re-entry

 

CB2015

Vacation re-entry is a bitch. Especially when you leave the cool mountains of Colorado for the fiery urban sauna of home. Oh Austin, I'm trying to love you again but right now I'm deep in the stages of grief.

1. Denial. Noooo. This can't be that bad, can it? Sure vacation is over, but it's still summer. I like summer. I like home. I like real life. I like routines and chores. I like heat. Wait, what?

2. Anger. What in holy hell have I done? How did I get home and why is it 1,000 freaking degrees in the shade? Why are my kids asking me for meals or wanting to be taken to the pool? Why am I expected to open the bulging credit card bills that arrived while we were gone? Why do I feel so cramped? Are there suddenly more people in my family? We have spent two solid weeks together! How much more Together Time do they all expect?

3. Bargaining. Maybe if I don't unpack and don't do laundry we can just tack on another trip that leaves tomorrow. Maybe Hubs and I can alternate working while the other drives. We only saw a little snow in Colorado...we really should find some place colder this time. Alaska! Icebergs! I would cancel vacations for the next two years just to get a few more days of fun right now.

4. Depression. I will never be as happy as I was that one day last week, running down the mountain in long sleeves. Or that morning I drank 3 cups of coffee under a rainbow sunrise. Or that night of the outdoor concert when we stretched out at the base of a mountain, the sky changing colors every few minutes, the kids rolling down nearby hills, the wine and laughter with friends mingling into a perfect harmony.

5. Acceptance. If I can't be on vacation, I might as well be earning money toward the next one. School starts soon, and that means more hours in the day to work. Oh joy. But honestly, do I want to be the friend who complains about her vacation hangover? Don't we all hate that person? Ok fine. I'm home. I'm unpacked. I'm dealing. I'll just leave it at that.

 

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How are you surviving the last gasp of summer, my friends? I'm sending y'all strength and air-conditioned vibes!

Forget me not

So, Hubs has been traveling a lot with work, which is really super fantastic because it gives me all kinds of fodder for blog posts but little time to actually put it in writing. But who am I to complain? After all, it's not total fun and games for Hubs either. He's working nonstop, sleeping in a quiet kid-free room alone, and missing the warmth and chaos comfort of home.

Yet somehow, we persevere...and I think it has something to do with a family tradition that, though started quite accidentally, keeps us connected while apart. It all began years ago, back when we were a family of four, not five. One early morning Hubs was trying to navigate his way out the door, shuffling through kids and dogs with his briefcase, tiny suitcase and even tinier shampoo bottles when Rascal bolted after him. Pushing a vintage Star Wars guy into his palm, he implored, "Take Droid with you and think of me!"

Naturally, this sent Doodlebug into complete hysterics because obviously "Daddy is not going to think of me! Quick, what can I give him??" Deaf to words like rush-hour traffic and freaking ridiculous security lines, she raced through the house in search of something, anything. She returned with a small plastic Hippo. Phew! Now he would, as the kids carefully repeated, remember to remember us.

And who would have guessed, but it actually worked! And we are still getting the postcards to prove it....

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