Well, we are back into the swing of things. I've determined that vacation is like ripping off a band-aid. You're feeling a little bruised and beat up. You need a band-aid. Aka, vacation. Yet eventually you have to take the band-aid off. And you cringe a little. Then, you just rip it off. Then, you scream in horror at the pain that ensues. This is how it is when you get back from vacation. A little shock and surprise at how much it burns to be back to the daily grind.
Ironically, I couldn't wait to be back anyway. You want the band-aid off and even though it hurts, your bruises have healed and you're ready to accumulate whatever life may throw you next. This is why people go on vacation. To get away from daily life, get totally exhausted and over stimulated. So they appreciate daily life. I used to collect band-aids.
Speaking of ripping off a band-aid, I took apart Penelope's crib a couple days after we got back. It was time. She had been crawling out of her crib a lot. Anyway, it was weird and sad and different but I just had to do it. Wah, wah, Julie. Back to real life. Just do it quickly. Rip it off fast and it won't hurt, right? Not really. It hurt a little!
And on the way to the library today I had one of those Mom moments where everything seems to go your way. It was a moment of genius if I do say so myself. I was excited to get books with them but at the same time was somewhat dreading taking all four of my children to the library by myself, since they usually exceed the decibel level by 200%, according to my standards. So as we pull into the parking lot I felt inspired.
"Guys, remember you have to be really quiet in the library, so if you're having trouble, just pretend there's a monster who lives in the library, and you have to be really quiet or you'll wake him up."
And then I really got going.
"And if you wake him up, he'll come out and start eating all the books, and we don't want him to eat all the books, because then there won't be any books for us to check out! Okay?"
The older two enjoyed playing the game and the younger ones bought it hook, line, and sinker. Score! Cash, whom I believed was born without the ability to whisper, talked in a whisper the entire time and at one point came up to me and asked me where the monster lived in the library. I brilliantly answered (in a whisper of course), "You can't see him, but don't worry, he won't come out because you're being really quiet!" Penelope stood playing in the water fountain (someone usually does this but at least this time she was doing it silently) and turned to ask me, "Mom, where's the monster?" She's only 2 and a couple months...she's smart, that one.
They were still talking about it in the bathtub tonight. I've always taught my kids that Santa and the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny are not real. Yet today I crossed over when I allowed my 3.5 year old to believe in a monster that lives behind the library. What have I become?
One more thing. Just because. Our dog is having trouble getting back to normal too. She is breaking all kinds of rules like lying on the rug and such. Tonight she went into the laundry room to drink from the toilet (she doesn't do this often, only when she's really thirsty because we haven't put enough water out or something) and I listened to her drink for a long time, thinking she must be thirsty. Yes, you know what's coming. I said, "Jimmy, please tell me there's not pee or poop in there." And of course, there was. Number one. So gross. I'm just sitting here staring at her lying totally content trying not to think about what's in her stomach. A monster who eats books, a dog who drinks pee...I'm in really good company these days. At least I don't need a band-aid! I'm ready to be home for a while. It's a good place to be.