Home
Phew. We're home, after a whirlwind trip to Vermont to see Antarctic Uncle and Green Thumb Girl get married. We were gone for just about 60 hours, and according to my rough calculations, this is how that time broke down:
I guess we must have spent the remaining 7 hours showering, brushing teeth, eating some meals, using the bathroom, trying to convince Dutch to go to sleep, and lying awake wishing for sleep ourselves. I can't remember. I do know that there was scarcely a moment of down time. (Flying across country with a 3-year-old and a pile of homework reading does NOT count as down time.) By Saturday afternoon I was exhausted, and by Sunday afternoon I was in an altered state. By the time we got home, Cook and I were in that hideous stage of fatigue where you can't finish a sentence, you trip over things, you can't remember why you're in the room you're in, and you mistakenly brush your teeth with your wife's toothbrush, an act which seems to your sleep-deprived wife like malicious cruelty and brings her to the verge of tears. Dutch, having napped through the entire landing, de-planing*, and baggage-claiming, was actually relatively peppy at that point. (She had some seriously bratty moments over the weekend, but generally behaved herself extremely well under the circumstances. During layovers, we drilled her to do jumping jacks and high kicks and sprints in the gate areas.)
Our ballots arrived! We were so excited we actually considered filling them out on the spot, and then wisely decided we couldn't be trusted to make responsible decisions. I might have woken in the morning to find I'd voted for the Libertarians or for some evil ballot measure that would leave me sick at heart.
This kind of experience highlights something that I consider to be one of the best and worst aspects of parenting. When you feel truly awful and sorry for yourself, you still have to behave responsibly and take care of your kid. Sometimes this feels downright heroic, like when you're carrying your sleeping child through the airport at the end of an 18-hour day, staggering with exhaustion, juggling luggage, and hurrying to catch the train. It certainly adds an element of extra stress to already-stressful situations, though.
We're glad that we went, though. It was fun to meet Green Thumb Aunt's family, and it was wonderful to see Antarctic Uncle and Green Thumb Aunt both looking so gorgeous and happy. Also, Dutch got to be a flower girl, a job she took extremely seriously, and she also got to ride a horse. She was thrilled.
Anyway, we're back. I decided I was too tired to go to work today, and Dutch is too sick to go to daycare anyway, so she and I are at home together mopping up all the household tasks that didn't get done this weekend. Cook got up at 6 to go to work, because he is stronger or more foolish than I am. Today I feel just Really Tired, but no longer in an altered state. After I unpack, do the laundry, and buy groceries, I think I might vote!
* I love that word.
- 34 in transit (bus, train, plane, taxi, and car, visiting the cities of Chicago, Las Vegas, Manchester, and Montpelier)
- 11 sleeping (more for Dutch, who got a few desperately-needed ad hoc naps here and there)
- 8 at the wedding
I guess we must have spent the remaining 7 hours showering, brushing teeth, eating some meals, using the bathroom, trying to convince Dutch to go to sleep, and lying awake wishing for sleep ourselves. I can't remember. I do know that there was scarcely a moment of down time. (Flying across country with a 3-year-old and a pile of homework reading does NOT count as down time.) By Saturday afternoon I was exhausted, and by Sunday afternoon I was in an altered state. By the time we got home, Cook and I were in that hideous stage of fatigue where you can't finish a sentence, you trip over things, you can't remember why you're in the room you're in, and you mistakenly brush your teeth with your wife's toothbrush, an act which seems to your sleep-deprived wife like malicious cruelty and brings her to the verge of tears. Dutch, having napped through the entire landing, de-planing*, and baggage-claiming, was actually relatively peppy at that point. (She had some seriously bratty moments over the weekend, but generally behaved herself extremely well under the circumstances. During layovers, we drilled her to do jumping jacks and high kicks and sprints in the gate areas.)
Our ballots arrived! We were so excited we actually considered filling them out on the spot, and then wisely decided we couldn't be trusted to make responsible decisions. I might have woken in the morning to find I'd voted for the Libertarians or for some evil ballot measure that would leave me sick at heart.
This kind of experience highlights something that I consider to be one of the best and worst aspects of parenting. When you feel truly awful and sorry for yourself, you still have to behave responsibly and take care of your kid. Sometimes this feels downright heroic, like when you're carrying your sleeping child through the airport at the end of an 18-hour day, staggering with exhaustion, juggling luggage, and hurrying to catch the train. It certainly adds an element of extra stress to already-stressful situations, though.
We're glad that we went, though. It was fun to meet Green Thumb Aunt's family, and it was wonderful to see Antarctic Uncle and Green Thumb Aunt both looking so gorgeous and happy. Also, Dutch got to be a flower girl, a job she took extremely seriously, and she also got to ride a horse. She was thrilled.
Anyway, we're back. I decided I was too tired to go to work today, and Dutch is too sick to go to daycare anyway, so she and I are at home together mopping up all the household tasks that didn't get done this weekend. Cook got up at 6 to go to work, because he is stronger or more foolish than I am. Today I feel just Really Tired, but no longer in an altered state. After I unpack, do the laundry, and buy groceries, I think I might vote!
* I love that word.
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