home again, home again, jiggity jig.

We’ve survived another epic summer Utah trip. We made the drive home today in a square eleven hours, which might be a record. Especially considering that it included (as nearly all road trips do) vomiting.

Enzo was the culprit today. He blew chunks twice. Once in the car mid-string cheese and then again while we were stopped at a Jacob’s Lake campsite for lunch. We thought the string cheese incident was gagging related, besides our children are known for random upchucking incidents so I didn’t hesitate to present him with a roast beef sandwich as soon as he was seated at the picnic table. Luckily, the bench was far enough from the table top that he missed it.

We arrived home no worse for the wear, unloaded the car, tried out the new trampoline situation in the back yard,

watered withering plants, and wrastled pukey Enzo into the tub. Then, in a quiet moment I snuck into my closet to greet my clothes

“I’m home ladies” I said. “And I’ve brought you some new playmates. I’ve no doubt you’ll all get along famously with the fuchsia suede pumps, but go easy on the Vibram Five fingers, will you girls? I know they’re a little odd and quite a bit more outdoorsy than any of the rest of you but I’m sure you’ll all get along in the end if you give them a chance.” Then I slipped back out unpacked the kid’s things, shuttled the next child through the bath, did a load of barf wash, scavenged a bit of dinner, read some Winnie the Pooh to my freshly clean babies, tucked one in bed (while the Mr did tucked the other) and now I am here. Telling you all about it.
Goodnight.

2 Responses to home again, home again, jiggity jig.

  1. Apparently a significant percentage of Bastian Reunioneers found themselves vomiting on Sunday. Glad none of them live at my house.

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