We finally returned from two weeks of “vacation” in Puerto Rico, and it felt good to have my feet on the mainland. It had been a rough go, what with a sick infant and a sick toddler and a sick daddy, but overall we made the best of it and had a good time, despite the monsoon rain showers, sunburn, and high cost of everything. The important thing was that the kids had fun. So what that Daddy and Papa never got a single second to themselves. It doesn’t matter that Daddy hasn’t felt this sleep-deprived since the baby was two months old. There was a pool and an ocean there, and that equals fun for our boys. Well, that plus plain penne with Parmesan cheese on the side for every single meal. I don’t think I saw a single vegetable the entire trip. We’re usually pretty good about vegetables, but these were desperate times and we just needed to keep our sons fed and hydrated so that we could just get them back home alive.
We arrived home to a house that was completely empty on the first floor, except for refinished hardwood floors (that looked awesome) and repainted floors, cabinets and ceilings. The paint job left a lot to be desired. Missing paint in some places; too much paint in others. Ruined window treatments and a missing toilet paper holder rounded out the disappointment.
I had to keep remembering to breathe as I began to realize, now that we were back to reality, what was ahead of me. The next seven or eight weeks of summer vacation (okay, 52 days but who’s counting?) has been billed by Daddy as the mother of all summer fun (AKA Camp Daddy), but how could I start taking the boys to this beach and that hike, this play date and that movie, when I have an almost impossible to-do list staring me in the face? With a storage POD full of furniture and boxes waiting to be unpacked and gently placed back onto the perfectly unscratched floor, an eight-month old (who currently insists that if Daddy is in the vicinity then Daddy should be holding him) really puts me at a disadvantage. I have not yet learned how to unpack boxes with my feet.
As if the unpacking isn’t enough, I still have tax returns to finish, thanks to an extension we got prior to leaving on our trip. Maybe if I have a second I can read up on the changes that will be happening, thanks to the recent demise of DOMA.
I immediately did 8 loads of laundry upon our return, but I still have a crusty minivan that needs cleaning at the car wash as well as routine maintenance at the dealership. We had Devin’s epic 6th birthday party before we left, but we’ve only opened five of the seventy or so wrapped gifts that remain in our garage.
Friends have been calling for play dates, and I’ve been postponing. I’ve been trying to pay some bills but some will be late. And of course, as always, there are nails to trim.
Home renovations need to continue, since we are on a roll. The upstairs needs carpeting replaced and paint applied, so we will be clearing out that level next. We need new bunk beds for the boys, and we need to assemble the guest room’s IKEA sofa bed that sits in a box just outside the back door. Anyone who has ever bought IKEA realizes that I have just lost a day of my life from that purchase alone.
I’m going to completely ignore the fact that I have hardly worked out in the last three weeks. Looking ahead to the rest of the summer, I’ve been gently encouraged by my husband to start the P90X home videos that we have waiting for me in our home gym. Something, anything, to work off the baby fat that has accumulated on my bod in the last six years – fat that has catapulted me from my race weight of 150 pounds to my current too-much-on-my-plate weight of 170 pounds.
Groceries, doctor’s appointments, swim lessons. Managing investment property, going to the park, writing. I’m going to keep my cool, maintain my composure. For my sanity, as well as my family’s. And that’s just how I roll.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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