Tonight was Grandma’s last night of her visit.  She and Benjamin had planned to have a sleepover on the futon, but while she finished up some work on the computer, I stole her spot and curled up with B.  He’s still getting over his jet lag, so he was wide awake.  I snuggled up with him and we laughed and talked.  We talked about all kinds of things, in the seemingly random stream-of-consciousness way that he has (I imagine it’s pretty common among 4 year olds).  We talked about EVERYTHING — school, friends, cars, dying, family.  He shifted from silly to morbidly serious and back again without a thought.

I love hearing him talk.  I love getting to answer his questions — even when I’m not sure what to say, or when I hear myself saying something and immediately wish I’d been more comforting, or more creative, or sillier in my response.  I love that he asks me ALL of his questions, from the existential ones that I struggle to answer to the practical.  I love that he’s so willing to talk to me, and I admire his willingness to not know the answers.

He’s such an amazing kid, and it was wonderful to get to spend those snuggly, conversation filled moments with him.  I am so glad to be a mom to my wonderful, snuggly little guy.

We’ve been back in Austria for about 2 and a half days now.  Aside from the jet lag (which is always a challenge when it happens to little ones — as adults, we understand what’s going on and we can forcibly adjust our schedules a bit to aid the transition, whereas our kids are just laying in bed, crying and/or staring at the ceiling until nearly 3 in the morning and have no idea why their bodies are fighting sleep so hard), we’re going through the tough transition of getting back into the swing of our daily routines after a month away.

When I travel for a week, I have trouble coming back to everything.  It’s hard to remember exactly how to work it so that I get everything done and everyone taken care of in the necessary ways.  Since we were gone for an entire month, I now have to remember not just how to do it, but exactly what it was I was doing in the first place.  My mental lists of daily chores and tasks hasn’t come back to me yet, so I’m struggling just to remember WHAT to do, let alone HOW to do it.  Add to that the pile of unopened mail, the mountain of vacation-worn laundry and the enormous volume of as yet unread email, and it’s a bit overwhelming.  I feel a little like I’ve been dumped into someone else’s slightly disorganized life and been asked to take over.  I feel out of sorts in my own house (I couldn’t find a spatula in my own kitchen today) and unfamiliar with my own responsibilities.

That’s ok.  It was worth it.  I was once one of those “if there’s so much work to do before and after I go on vacation, why do I even bother to go” people, back in my perfectionist days.  No more.  We had an excellent vacation.  A few days spent sorting mail, fighting jet lag and remembering (or reinventing) my daily routines is a small price to pay for the time I’ve gotten to spend with my friends and family.

I’ll get there, it might just take a while.  And I hope that no one who sent me one of the thousand or so emails in my inbox is holding their breath for a response.

Being a stay-at-home mom is NOT a glamorous job. Our best days involve doing a series of repetiive and often icky jobs for a bunch of people who don’t appreciate us. (And who often wish we WEREN’T doing those jobs — who really wants to be washed behind their ears or to have to eat their peas?) Our successes are measured in accident-free trips to the potty and the number of days we’ve gone eithout either yelling at our darling children or having to cart anyone to the Emergency Room. And yet, what we do is pretty important, it’s just not always easy to see that part when we’re down in the trenches every day.

Last week, when we were visiting Disney, we were standing in line at “It’s a Small World”. It’s a water ride, and we were almost to the front of the line, so we were on a bridge-like walkway, elevated, with water all below us. It had been a long, hot day, and the kids were getting tired, and a little cranky. I caught a movement, out of the corner of my eye, and just as Liam used his future NFL quarterback arm to lob his favorite sippy cup over the edge, towards the water, I reached out and snatched it out of the air, without even having a good look at where I was reaching.

It was a good moment. Dan was impressed. I saved the hell out of that sippy cup. Tragedy was averted — no sippy cups were lost, no patrons splashed with ancient, icky ride water. It was a glorious moment in parenting.

I am a pro-fessional, and I am good at my job. Sometimes you have to take a moment and celebrate the little victories.

My afternoon and evening have been mainly spent tracking down the myriad things we have strewn about since we got to Florida on Wednesday. My days of traveling light are definitely behind me for now, and so are my days of thinking that the easy phase of packing is re-packing before you leave where you were going.

That used to be true. I used to agonize (sometimes for days) over the exact right things to bring to maximize my efficiency (and cuteness) when I was preparing to travel. Then, when I had finished my trip, it was simple to collect up my efficient things (usually spread no further than the bathroom) to organize them for the return trip. No problem.

Efficiency is still the goal. But now I’m packing for 3 people (Dan packs for himself, more or less) and it’s not possible to pack precisely. Not only are there just a lot of things that are either needed or wanted (and which thus improve the quality of the trip) but I just don’t have hours to worry about whether each top goes with each bottom for every outfit (for maximum outfit efficiency — I used to think about things like that). Instead, a bunch of (hopefully) clean clothes and toys and things get tossed in some bags, and off we go. (The kids require A LOT of stuff. For anyone who isn’t familiar with traveling with kids, it might surprise you that approximately 70-80% of the volume of the things we pack for a trip are for the kids. It’s a lot.)

And once we get where we’re going, those things go EVERYWHERE. Things get played with, thrown and dropped. Clothes get dirty and left wherever they are changed, or somewhere between there and where they are supposed to go. The kids get new things. Things go in the fridge, in the car, outdoors, under and into furniture, and into and out of various bags. They get moved by me, Dan, the kids and potentially friends and family that we stay with and visit (and occasionally pets).

And then, it all has to be reclaimed, organized, packed again and brought along to our next destination. That’s what I did today. I think we found everything except for the blue sailboat pacifier. (It took us several hours and 5 searches of the van to find the blue sippy cup.) Tomorrow, we go on to our next destination: Maryland.

Until today, my kids really had no idea about Disney. Outside of the Cars movie, their only exposure to Mickey and his friends was when our friends came to see us in February and brought some tv shows along with them.

So, our announcement yesterday that “We’re going to Disney!” was not met with the excitement that it might have been from other kids their age.

I think next time, though, it will be.

With grandparents who live in central Florida, I knew this trip would come sooner than it would have otherwise. Today, we made our first Disney trip — to the Magic Kingdom.

Driving to Orlando this morning was the calm before the storm. They didn’t know what to expect, so they weren’t worked up about it. That won’t ever be true again. Seeing them cautiously regarding the entrance, gradually catching our enthusiasm, I know it will never be like that again.

Of course, once we finally got our tickets, got in, had ice cream, watched the parade and rode the carousel, the kids wanted to go home (it was 11:53).

But, by 1:00, the story was, “I want to go on ALL the rides!”

We rode on a bunch of rides, saw a 3-D show, ate some ridiculously expensive lunch and had more ice cream than was probably prudent. We got too much sun, rode out a series of melt-downs (mostly from Liam), avoided some potential thinderstorms, and left, after nearly 11 hours, thoroughly exhausted.

Benjamin’s favorite part was the carousel (which he also listed as his least favorite, “because it was too wild”) and I think Liam liked “It’s a Small World” (which I also enjoyed, aside from the fact that if I stare too long at any of the characters, all I can think about is what a good horror movie could be made with them).

Dan observed that Disney is like Vegas for kids — signs and advertisements, huge resort hotels, places that are trying to capture their attention and get you to part with your money at every turn.

I was astounded by the logistics of the place. The size, the number of people, the attention to detail required. There are so many things to manage, and so many opportunities for something to go wrong. It’s impressive how finely tuned it all is.

And the staff are generally wonderful. I loved seeing how much enthusiasm they all had (or maybe faked, but convincingly) for the kids. It was touching.

We had a tremendous (in all senses) day. We are happy and worn out. And now my kids know what Disney is all about. The world is forever changed by that for them. I’m glad they liked it.

I can’t remember not knowing how to swim. I grew up with a grandmother who had a pool and an ocean-front beach condo, so we were introduced to water at a young age and learning to swim was a priority.

My kids don’t yet know how, and I’m anxious for them to learn. We looked in to infant swim classes, but it just didn’t seem to be the right fit for us. Now that we’re visiting Topés (Dan’s parents), who have a pool, I was excited to get them in the water.

So, today, we strapped on the floaties and threw them in (just kidding). They couldn’t wait to get in and try (B was more patient with the application of all of the accoutrements than Liam).

B climbed in to swim with me while Dan made adjustments to Liam’s safety equipment. Once he got over his initial shyness about the water, he was thrilled. I helped him float around, and he quickly started testing his mobility — he got pretty good at kicking, but didn’t like to paddle with his arms, because it splashes his face. Within about 5 minutes, he was telling me he could “swim on his own”. (Which, I recognize, is one of the dangers of the floaties — now he thinks he can swim.) It was wonderful to see his comfort and enthusiasm. I loved seeing how much he enjoyed his new-found freedom, as he splashed and floated around. He was so joyful and liberated by his new skills.

Liam was excited to join in, but didn’t get past the point of wanting to cling to me. (That’s ok — he’ll get there.)

I’m so glad to see both of my boys enjoy the water. They both did more today than they ever had before. I’m so happy to see it.