I'm back from my vacation and a good time was had by all.

Jules sent me off with a travel journal and a pen with the strict instructions to write, write, write. And I did, did, did. In fact, I wrote so much, I ran out of ink.

So, obviously, there's tons of detail in there. If you want to read it (and you know me), let me know. There's nothing untoward or offensive. Maybe because writing on paper is labourous and my mind works slower (or that I'm afforded the opportunity to edit in my head before I plunk it on a page) there are very few swear words, even. And if you're a regular reader of this blog, or if you've been out with me socially, you'll know that I swear like a sailor.

Honestly, the only disappointment I had was getting my period because I packed lots of white pants. Oh, and I wish there were fewer Canada-hating, US-centric Americans, but there's always a few bad apples.

I also posted photos on my Facebook page as well as many as I could on to Flickr. Again, if you have my email address and you want a link to the photos, tell me. I've detailed the photos best I could so that would be the best way to describe my trip rather than me writing about it here.

But to sum up, it was a good trip and long overdue. We were expecting lots of liver spots and Husband thought he'd have to trudge through dinner with old people complaining about their dentures, but this wasn't the case. There were lots of families with pre-teen or teen children, so most of the adults were about our age or just a tad older. There was absolutely tons to do on board. We only swam at night (the pools were salt water) under the stars. It was great and we didn't have to share the pool. I won the trivia contest. Husband learned to play Blackjack from our dinner table mates from South Bend, Indiana (they were so incredibly nice). Husband also saved an old lady who fell face first in the ocean in her all-white outfit. She was from Syracuse NY and was with 9 other friends for their 50th high school reunion. When we got back to the tour bus, they all sung O Canada in appreciation. Freaky. I still went to the gym every day. Husband ate and ate and ate and is still skinny.

My OCD is in full swing. I blame my esthetician. You see, I went for my pedicure yesterday (it's a pre-vacation rule, you know) and told me what I thought was a cracked heel was really plantar warts. I gasped because I know they're highly contagious and they're an HPV with loooong roots. Ick. Ick. Ick. I probably got them (I have two very close together) from walking barefoot at the kids' swimming lessons. You have to take off your outdoor shoes and, well, I didn't want to get wet socks!

I apologized to the esthetician, telling her that I know they're very contagious. "Oh, please. I'm not exaggerating if I say that every other client has them. I bleach everything and I think I'm genetically incapable of catching them."

Still, now I'm going to be scrupulous about covering my feet until they heal, and probably afterward so I don't catch it again.

So, from this nasty reminder about viruses came a renewed interest in ensuring I have enough Purell. I was going to anyway because of all those reports of people on cruises getting ill. I'm also bringing a bottle of anti-bacterial Febreeze. I intend to spray the bedspread. They don't wash them, you know. I don't even want my capris touching some stranger's spunkum or whatever.

Jules thinks I'm a little off, but any one in my family (extended too) can attest that we're all like this. How many outside of us were washed in Dettol as children? "But Mummy, it's buuuuurning me!" "Hush. That's just the Dettol killing all the bugs on you." Is it any wonder?!?

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"Middle Child is going to hell," Husband announced yesterday.

Apparently, some kid in his class was wearing a Sidney Crosby shirt and Middle Child taunted him by saying it was "Sidney Crotch-bee".

Going to hell? No, he's just a Senators fan.

See? It's stuff like that which will make me miss my kids when I'm away on vacation. I'll miss it when Baby Boy climbs on my lap and says, "I have a present for you" and then he plants a kiss right on the lips. Daughter hid love notes in our luggage. It's supposed to be a secret, I think, so I haven't read them yet.

Baby Boy is going around saying he's "going to par-tay" when we're gone. I swear, that kid really will be the president of his frat. This is why I call him Otter, people.

But they will be in excellent hands: the hands that raised me (and washed me in Dettol). I wouldn't be leaving if it were any other way. Probably.

Husband and I are going on a vacation. It's our first - sans enfants - since our honeymoon, which is really quite sad.

My mum will pack up her life and take care of the kids for us. Must get the soup pot ready.

Actually, I have to get lots and lots of things ready. It isn't just hauling summer clothes out and stuff. I also have to do all the extraneous cleaning that my mum will nab me on. Sure, the place must be tidy and stuff (which is a huge deal when you have a messy family like mine), but I'm going to have to do all the little stuff like:

- clean and disinfect the fridge and freezer
- clean and deodorize the sink drains in kitchen and bathrooms
- wash down cupboards
- vacuum fridge coils
- thoroughly wash floors including corners

And if there's still time, I'll reorganize my closet.

If you have a Maltese mother, you'd understand my need. However, I'm really doing this more for me. I know my mum will keep the place tidy while I'm gone (and do a better job than I do), but if I do all this stuff, I know she'll be able to keep up with my kids. Cleaning up after them is like shoveling during a blizzard.