Thank you all...

for thinking positive thoughts about me on the ten hour flight to Seattle on Saturday. Unfortunately, your positive thoughts did not help me and I was stuck with an inconsolable toddler and a demanding preschooler (a direct quote, shouted as I held an almost sleeping Lizzie in my arms: "why aren't you doing what I want right now! I want you to do what I want!"). Finally, and please forgive me readers who are not used to bad words, I said aloud to my daughter who had been fighting sleep successfully for, oh, six hours, "well, fuck it, Lizzie. Don't sleep if you don't want to." While my supply of patience is not anywhere close to endless, I am not in the habit of cursing at my children, and Lizzie realized I was really mad (probably from the tone, not the actual words) so she, and this is not a lie, reached up and grabbed my cheeks and blew kisses into the air. To which I said, "are you kidding?" Finally, with two hours left in the flight, I fell asleep (for maybe ten minutes), so completely had my children worn me down, and when I woke up, Lizzie was sleeping in my arms and Tommy was sleeping as well. I'll try this tactic much earlier next time.

Anyway, the flight is over, and we are at Grandma and Grandpa's house and the kids are having SO MUCH FUN. Playing in dirt, riding a red bike, playing with loads of lego and tinkertoys, eating popsicles, drinking lots of juice. You get the idea.

But sleeping they are not. The first night, we got off the plane, had dinner and went to bed at eight. Lizzie woke up from 12-2, then went back to sleep until 4, and Tommy woke at 3 for the day. The second night, Lizzie slept from 5pm-3am, and Tommy from 5pm-1:30am. He did not go back to sleep until I forced him to take a nap at 10am. (And yes, I have to get up when they get up.) Friends, I had such high hopes for last night, but no improvement. Tommy slept 6pm-2am, and Lizzie 6pm-3am. I was doing fine until this morning, but somehow I am adjusted to this time zone and would like to be sleeping until, say, five, and so I have been a bit less nice than I ought to be to my children this morning (however, and this is not a high bar I realize, I have not been using the f-word). I think the point is this: Daddy, we all really, really miss you and can't wait to see you next week. And we never want to go on a vacation without you again if there's a time change of more than say, three hours. Because I seem to lack the necessary endurance.

I do believe I need a holiday from my holiday.

Mom's pictures are on the other computer, so I give you this one that Dad took, which is actually a very accurate snapshot of life here (Lulu cannot get enough of the dog):