Home again / Home again / Jiggety-jog

Here we are, at home again, again.  And I didn't miss any flights, hallelujah.

I will never forget the spring of 2011 arriving at the gate in Seattle just as the door was closing, pushing a loaded stroller, the baby hanging in the sling in front of me while literally dragging the wailing 3 year old, the 5 year old trotting alongside of us holding on to the stroller.  Why Truen wasn't in the stroller I'll never know (or remember).

Or, same flight, at the layover of my re-directed route to Salt Lake City, feeling like an earthquake survivor, yellow baby poo smeared all over my pants (mid-flight poop blow-out), grappling with the aftershock of missing the last three of our four flights and realizing that something in my plan of attack needed some major adjustment.  Yeah.  It was lovely.

But this time my dad accompanied us to the gate with a pass from "special services".  I was jittery while waiting in line the brief few minutes it took to get to the counter for the pass.  And though we wouldn't have been late to the gate anyway, it definitely allowed for a more leisurely walk and an extended good-bye.  I was so grateful for my dad's presence. (Note to self: do this every time.) 

I even got to go to the bathroom all by myself, a rare-known treat these days, to which my dad so hilariously quipped, "I'm a big girl now!" when I told him how surreal it felt as I washed my hands and walked out of the bathroom door completely unharrassed.  Oh my . . . it makes me chuckle even now.

Squeeze met us with lots of hugs and happiness at the airport for our 10:50 PM arrival.  We got home somewhere between midnight and 1:00 AM and finally simmered down enough for bed-time around 1:45 AM (though that would have been 11:45 PM to our bodies, which had adjusted to Pacific time).  The boys ran around, reacquainting themselves with the house and exclaiming how different it looked and how good it felt to be home.

And, LOL, the next day Diego even protested the need for a nap, saying, "but there are so many adventures to have at home now that we are back at our house!"  But let the record state: he was sawing logs within minutes of laying down.  We were zonked.

It feels good to be home (MN).  Being home (WA) was such a good break in the action for me.  Re-connecting with roots.  Soaking up the green.  Leisurely visiting with family.  The pleasure of seeing my boys know and love their grandparents and aunts and uncles.  Experiencing respite from the "usual grind" and the ensuing feeling of a refreshed perspective on life . . .  yes . . . it has been good.

Much love to all.

<< Memory Transport >>

We're still at my parents' house, savoring every moment . . .

At home I usually use either Dr. Bronner's Sal Suds or OxyClean to remove stains from clothing.  Sal Suds is particularly effective on grease stains and will remove the problem even after going through the dryer, while OxyClean removes almost any grime with a long, hot soak.  I'm sure you all have hammered out your own methods.

So the other day when I needed to attack some greasy-grimy clothing, I pulled out my mom's weapon of choice: Spray n' Wash, and was instantly transported to the free-wheelin' feelin' of the exhilaration and excitement of being home for Christmas break during college. 

I thought about it more and realized that my parents still had a houseful of kids at that time and two grimy teenage boys who were full-bore in their glory years of wrestling and puberty.  The washer/dryer set-up at my parents' house back then was in the back entry, entirely open to the rest of the floor and the downstairs had a permeating scent of Spray n' Wash.  And no wonder.

Amazing how a scent can conjure such memory and emotion. Freedom. Enthusiasm. Discovery. Missing my main squeeze, but enjoying the drama of it all. Spending time with immediate and extended family. Seeing old friends. Thoughtful daybook entries. Watching my sibs play Legend of Zelda on the Nintendo64. Slow days. Inspiration. Cloudy skies. Endless free-time. Showering whenever I wanted to. Sleeping in. Freedom.

Ahhhhhh, it was grand.

Home again / Home again / Jiggety-jig

We are back at my parents' house in Western WA and I didn't even miss my flight to get here.  We flew out of Sioux Falls, where we walked outside and climbed a rolling stairway to get onto the plane.

So far we've stayed home a lot, and have seen a couple of aunts and a grandma, a brother, a sister, and a SIL.  The boy-ohs amassed a large collection of pet bugs stored in plastic containers within the first couple of days.  They have spent a good chunk of time in the misty, moisty mornings, when cloudy was the weather, outside.  Truen has his very own spotted pet slug and Diego has the tiniest little brown salamander that he found in the crook of a rotting log, about the half the size of my pinky finger. 

The grass is green, the trees are budding, crocus and daffodils are up, and the birds are twittering.  Spring . . . the most beautiful of seasons here in the Pacific Northwest.  Ahhhhhh . . . I am soaking it in.  Though Squeeze did report that it was in the mid-60s F at home yesterday.  Yow!  Talk about unseasonably warm.

My parents heat with wood, so the house is toasty warm and the boys are running around in their undies for most of the day.  They do that at home too, but here they have a valid excuse.  It is haaaaaaht.  I'm in a t-shirt and little pants vs. the woolens I usually cavort around in at home in the winter.

I am enjoying the relative leisure of being here, my main job being to keep these wild things tame.  I'm cooking and cleaning as well, but it has a different, less suffocating feel to it.  And there is so much less of a toy mess to wrangle.  A nice reprieve.  And.  And!  I should say.  I'm trying to relax and enjoy my boy-ohs.  Play.  Read.  Snuggle.  I do all these at home too, but I feel less pressured to finish and start on some other task here.  It feels good.

My dad is reading Prince Caspian aloud to us, which brings a menagerie of memories and atmosphere back for me.  Diego is transfixed, Truen listens while he plays, and I try to keep the baby under wraps while sitting and listening, which involves a lot of belly-bouncing and lazy nursing.

So here we are.  Home.  It feels so good to be a daughter again, re-connecting with my roots.

Love to all.

A word to the wise

Don't try to teach your baby brudder not to bite by sticking your finger into his mouth and saying, "No biting . . . no biting . . . owww!  No biting!"  It doesn't work.

Meanwhile . . .

The brudders last week before nap/quiet time

Totally unposed: this is how I found them.