Home Again

With bloodshot eyes, I post this entry. Everyone else in my little family came into the house after our five hour red-eye flight and crashed. I sorted mail, listened to messages, returned urgent calls, and took a nice bath. Worked like a charm as I had major kinks in my back that I made in my Houdini poses, finding a way to get Daughter and Baby Boy comfortable enough to sleep. But, honestly, it took them about 90 minutes.

Meanwhile, Husband had Middle Child who promptly rested his head on his "Da" and konked out before the plane took off.

How many hours of sleep did I get? Oh, about 40 minutes. I was having this dream of George Stromboulopolis when I was awoke by a most pungeant smell. Seriously, I thought Baby Boy pooped but it was really the sandwich this guy behind me unwrapped.

Oh, and Daughter spewed chunks. Poor kid. She could have also been upset to leave. As we were taking off, she waved out the window to the disappearing west, saying bye to all her relatives. She was pretty much reciting the whole trip from, "Thanks for meeting us at the airport, Gramma" to "It was fun eating breakfast with you, Uncle N."

The wait for the plane was relatively bearable. There was a play area the kids enjoyed. There was also a TV, which was really just an ad for a so-called children's channel (no other channels were available). But there was a little bit of nookie going on (of the soap opera variety - under the sheets but seemingly naked and lots of tongue). The kids survived a week at their aunt and uncle's who don't have cable and they did okay. I'm sure they're thanking God for DVD players.

I think Husband missed TV more. We stopped by his mother's apartment for dinner before heading to the airport and before he has his shoes off, he flicks it to a sports channel.

Anyway, we're home and we're safe but so tired. I really tried to sleep but I couldn't, not at the airport (the description here of the Victoria airport is bang-on), not on the plane, and not even at home. I'm so screwed.