long days

I have to go to the bathroom so bad, but I can't because I am too afraid to walk by the bedrooms of my sleeping children, because my slippered footsteps on the hallway carpet might be enough to wake them up.

So instead, I just sit here squirming.

I have more to say and more about my life to update, but somehow the fact that I am about to burst and unable to leave my living room just says it all to me.

Oh no, wait, this says it all: today in an attempt to make Lucy pee on the potty, I sat on her to keep her from running out of the bathroom again. I am losing my mind, and getting a lot of pee on myself in the process.

Why do we fill our houses with exersaucers, door jumpers, bouncy seats, cribs, toddler beds, high chairs, toys, books, changing tables, baby bath seats, gyminis, a DVD library featuring almost every evil Disney Princess and a Tivo stocked full with every episode of Wonder Pets ever broadcast... and then leave it all behind and call it a vacation? It's like setting off on a trek into the wild with not even a compass or a packet of beef jerky. Yes, you can probably survive it. But why would you want to?

We just got back from a week in San Diego. We stayed in a lovely almost beach-front house. We were about a block from the beach, but only steps away from the railroad tracks. And in case you weren't aware, the trains run all. night. long. By the end of the week, it was kind of like watching the effects of an experiment in prolongued sleep deprivation. The first few days, Lucy would cheerily wave to the conductor and yell "Chugga chugga Choo choo!" at each train that sped noisily by. By the end of the trip, she took to covering her ears and diving behind furniture when she heard the now-familiar far-off train whistle.

We had fun. We did. We saw Shamu (although we had to leave early after Lucy tried to run away) and the beach (got a parking ticket and discovered that Lucy is now afraid of the ocean) and the Zoo and Legoland and a pumpkin patch with bounce houses and real-life Carnies. Those will be the memories we remember, not the nights requiring multiple late-night PJ changes (pee and poop for Tessa, some 4AM nightmare necessitating getting out of her PJs and into her favorite dress and leggings for Lucy - who am I to argue when it resulted in her being dressed for the day right when she woke up?)

And every trip we take is a learning experience, that's what's important to remember. This trip we learned a lot, too. We learned that short trips are better with small kids (or at least our small kids.) We learned that a beautiful Arts and Crafts style bungalow with expensive knick-knacks might not be the best use of our vacation dollar right now. And one night on the walk to our car after quesadillas at Chevy's (why go for authentic when you can go for the guaranteed preschooler-pleasing) with the tipsy parents of 12-week old twins, I learned something else: formula feeding moms have more fun. And apparently more margaritas, too.

Anyway, it's really, really nice to be home. Both girls are asleep in their own beds. I think our Wonder Pets missed us too.

I'm not usually one for random acts of kindness, but I apparently couldn't help myself yesterday.

It was bound to happen eventually, that I would run into someone I knew at the new exciting flagship organic grocery store that just opened down the street (<---lame attempt to protect our privacy.) I am there almost every single day, after all, either picking up take out food or buying Lucy a cookie as reward for actually deigning to go to preschool. I am there every single day, and yet we never have anything to eat in our house. But that's another post.

This post is about how out of the goodness of my heart, I decided to drop by the new overpriced supermarket (or Mr. Hooper's Store as Lucy calls it) last night to pick up more take out dinner, since we still had no food in our house. And as luck (well, the odds were very, very good, considering my bathing schedule these days) would have it, I hadn't showered. Or really, brushed my hair. Or washed off the makeup from the day before when I had showered. And also, I have had a total of 5 hours sleep in the last 3 days.

So, of course I ran into some guy I used to date from high school. And his wife. And of course I reached in for an awkward hug when he was just kind of reaching to shake my hand. And of course I smelled too late the unmistakeable aroma of old spitup on my shirt. Except it was probably a foreign smell to him, because they don't have kids. And they looked perky and fresh and tan, like they exercise regularly, and probably sleep fairly often, too. And I looked like, the way I always look now -- haggard and greyish and greasy and maybe a little smelly too. And I can only hope that the silver lining in my personal humiliation is that his very nice-seeming wife went home feeling as fabulous as you do when you run into one of your husband's old girlfriend's from high school, and you know you have nothing to worry about.