Well, we made it back to Texas just in time for the first one-hundred degree day of the year. After arriving at our house and putting the kids to bed at eleven last night (snarky post about Houston IAH airport, whose only redeeming quality is that I never leave there without a good blog post, to come), someone woke someone else up at three something and Wes never went back to bed. Welcome back!! Tonight, though, Wes climbed right into bed and went to sleep with no fanfare at all and Charlie was the one who couldn't calm down. If they haven't nailed this into a routine by December I'm just going to hand them the house key and walk away, screaming probably, and maybe rocking a little.
I thought I would be relieved to get home to my own bed and gas stove but truthfully, when Wes and I rolled into our favorite breakfast taco place just after it opened this morning I thought about how my dad was walking to the store to get the paper right at that very moment and I got very sad. The closeness with far flung family and the traditions I can share with my kids, not to mention the beautiful setting and all the fun things to do make it so hard to leave.
Even though Wes never really got out of his vacation funk, he managed to rally and have a really great time. Both kids totally loved the seaweed. I was totally grossed out by it as a kid.
And so did Charlie. He developed a lot of confidence and independence during our stay. When we were walking between the two houses (the one my grandparents live in every summer and the one two doors down that my family rented), he was allowed to run the whole distance (100 yards) all by himself once he proved to me that he knew to stay off the beach and go straight to the porch of whichever house we were headed to.
He also had free reign of the porch and spent a lot of time curled up in a chair with a blanket and his friends.
Last year we had to stop at a department store on the way to Boston and our flight home because none of Charlie's pants or shorts was even close to being clean enough to wear home. And my standards are quite low. Thankfully, this year we had a washer and dryer, because my kids can find mud like it's their job. Right after I took this picture Wes began rubbing handfuls of muddy gravel in his hair. The amount of sand I swept out of our cabin every day was remarkable. And don't get me started on the shower.
Wes was happiest when he could play with his cousin, Sibley. The two of them ran screaming from one end of the porch to the other every evening until we kicked them off and made them go to the grass because "SOMEONE'S GONNA GET HURT!" They also prolonged bedtime by trying to outscream each other late into the night. Ahh, memories. Wes gave Sibley a huge hug when she left and then didn't let go as she walked to the car. He was a little lost without her the next day.
Like last year I've come home inspired by my grandmothers to work hard for my family, cook at home, and get the heck over myself. I will act on that plan as soon as we all get some sleep, though I did make a nice dinner tonight (A nice dinner that was interrupted numerous times by some squirrelly behavior that certainly would not have been tolerated two generations ago, but a nice dinner nonetheless) instead of ordering a pizza.
I'm already ready for next summer.