Home Again

We just got back from a week-long vacation. Not exactly a stay-cation, as the kids are calling it these days. More like a close-cation. After our trip down to DC in the spring, we realized a long car ride with the boys was, um, not even close to being a vacation. So we spent a week in nearby Ellicottville, NY at a ski resort. It's only about an hour away from our house, and the weather was really mostly good, and there's a ton to do with little kids at the resort and nearby.

Coming home, I always feel a little exhausted. No matter how relaxing the vacation might have been, and no matter how great the house/cat/dogsitters were, there's always cleaning and unpacking and laundry to be done IMMEDIATELY UPON ARRIVAL. I'm not the best at letting stuff sit around. I need to open mail while feeding lunch while planning the laundry while organizing the toys. Yes, this is not really necessary, but it's how I stay sane amid chaos. So right now I'm forcing myself to sit down and sip my Vit.amin Water Ze.ro (seriously, how good is that stuff?!) and recall the fun we had this past week.

There's always this disconcerting feeling . . . wait, we live here? Where again does the peanut butter go? And how exactly does this washing machine work? Did I remember to repack the sippy cup lids, and if so, where do I put them away? It is the exact opposite of the feeling I get just before vacation when I am in a tizzy getting everything into its exact place and making sure everything is packed just so until I can't take it anymore, and start throwing things into any old bag and into the car.

We got home about three hours ago and already the clean clothes are mostly put away, the dirty clothes are in their sorted piles in the basement waiting to be washed, and the boys have trashed the living room with their toys. The toys we brought, however, are neatly put away. The dog's already sick of us again.  After a week of eating dinner and most lunches in restaurants, I am more than ready to cook again, but I know by tomorrow night I'll be banging my head against the wall trying to figure out what to make for dinner.

It's funny, being on vacation. There are so many times when I can just let go and relax and forget for just a moment that I am a medusa in mom-colored clothes, carrying around a piece of reality most people never would guess or even want to hear about. It's sad sometimes having fun, making the memories that one little baby will never be a part of.

So anyway. We hiked, we swam, we explored, we ate. It was a great vacation. Here are a few pics, and if you live near me, or even if you don't, this is a cool getaway for summer.

Golf cart. Hells to the yeah.

At the top of a ski slope. That we all hiked straight up.
Only two of us were whining.

Again, hells to the yeah.
Using binocs to check out construction progress on the mountain coaster.

Mountain coasting. Super awesomesauce.

Bortherly . . . love? Rassling? Both?

O with his new favorite delicacy: pretzel rods. 

Griffis Sculpture Park. The dopest.

Hell yes I can climb stairs.

Little Rock City.

So, I am not a camper, really. I used to be, but I guess I've gotten spoiled by my sharp knives and nonstick cookware. Bottom line: I didn't cook in our condo at all. Before I go make dinner now, here are the trip highlights:
O sleeping through the night (sort of?) and getting his first tooth (finally!) and learning to crawl up the stairs (zoinks) and discovering the deliciousness (gnawliciousness) that is pretzel rods, taking E hiking up some pretty strenuous trails (yes I wore bronzer and earrings, sue me. I am tired of looking like a complete troll in pictures, so there), riding the new (just finished while we were there) mountain coaster--and it was hella fun. The most amazing cheeseburger I've ever had in my life.

It was a great trip, and I'm glad we're home again. Back at it.