Monday, May 28, 2007

She Had Eggs

We're back from our vacation in Texas. I have a whole new respect for SAHMs. After 10 consecutive days (all day, every day) with my daughter . . . let's just say that she'll be lucky if I pick her up from daycare after work tomorrow. I did take three months of maternity leave when she was born but let's face it - she slept a lot more back then. And didn't talk back. I feel like I'm stuck in a perpetual round of "Opposite Day." Remember that game in school? Someone would declare some random day as "Opposite Day" and then you had to do the opposite of what was requested of you. I tell A to walk and she runs. I tell her to sit down in the bathtub and she stands and stomps her feet. I tell her to stop throwing her food to the dogs and she sends a mandarin orange slice in a perfect arc straight into Gideon's mouth.

Here is a small sampling of what we did while in Texas: visited the Riverwalk and the Alamo in San Antonio; visited the Children's Museum, the aquarium, and the Galleria in Houston; saw various forms of wildlife including deer, ducks, squirrels, and birds galore; ate at a slew of restaurants; visited a pond; and stayed in two hotels. We spent the rest of the nights at my Aunt's house. She lives in a woodsy resort area where we took scenic walks, fed deer, and saw Texas-type stuff we had never seen before (like lizards). We also hung out with relatives I hadn't seen in 18 years.

So here is what A remembers about the trip: she had eggs. She told me this as we were reflecting on our vacation and all we had done. All she could remember was that she had enjoyed some eggs at breakfast one morning. At that moment I decided that we are definitely not taking her to Disney World anytime soon. It almost makes me a little sad that she isn't going to remember any of the cool stuff we've done over the past two years. But I digress.

As for the other half and me . . . well, 10 days of togetherness is also a little much even for couples that get along. This evening P and I had a conversation that went something like this:

Me: I sure hope you are going to work tomorrow.
Him: You're the one who'd better go to work, shithead.

Awww, isn't he precious? By today just the sound of him chewing started to cause my jaw to tighten. Somehow the 10th day always seems to be the straw that breaks the vacation's back.


Waiting for the hairplane

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