Days and months have gone by and I miss blogville. Yesterday I came a calling on a few of my favorites. I confess, they were mommies of some exciting pint size news (
Megan and
Erin) and even those expecting pint size news (
Anna). And you all know I have my own news due out soon, only it is not so pint sized and lacks that fresh baby smell.
Jetlag hit me hard this last trip home to U.S. It took me nearly three full days to decipher breakfast, lunch, dinner from one another. But, I'm back. And I'm back on a mission.
To write. To connect. To reconnect. (And to comment, I promise.)
I solemnly vow to write a thank you note to each and everyone we saw in U.S. --and even some we missed much to our own sadness. Each trip we experience so much generosity and hospitality and yet, two weeks back in the grind, it's like we never went.
'Cept the suitcases. Always the suitcases. We entered U.S. borders with two suitcases and returned to Emerald Isle with five full suitcases. Oye.
Now at home, I thought I might send thank you gifts from this end. Just how many sheep and shamrock magnets can one relative's fridge hold? Hmm, what would I like? More time with that person. More sharing. More talking.
The result is a letter where I've chosen to reminisce our trip with that person. It's been fun (then again, I enjoy writing) renewing that time.
Cutiepie took a huge liking to the U.S. on this trip. It could be the shopping trip where Auntie bought her 11 pair of shoes from the 97 pair she tried on at Target. This 3-year and 364-week old never knew shopping like the shopping her Auntie dishes out.
Or it might have been the morning jaunts to Starbucks with Auntie. Bonafide mocha frappacino with a side organic chocolate milk for stylish Cutiepie in the backseat. She's hooked.
This weekend, Babydoll resumed her Irish dance lessons. And with shoes to cut a rug, Cutiepie now wants lessons. Done. Imagine that, an added 60 kid-free-zone minutes into my week. Some weeks more, woohoo! Since we carpool, I reckon if I tie the girls to the gatepost in wait, their carpool and classtime could add possibly 90 solo minutes to my overpacked schedule.
Ah, but, they are cuter than buttons doing the jig. This week, I struggled to drop off the other girl dancer at her home. Does anyone else have a problem when your child invites herself to other people's homes? Manners people, how to teach them?
Both my girls, kicking and crying; I finally buckle them back into place muttering under my breath, "I know just the thing to do with misbehaving girls like you two...I'm gonna...." (use your imagination, go on, I give you creative license).
Cutiepie, never missing a beat, replied quickly. "Mommy, the thing to do with girls who cry is leave them at other people's houses! Please?"
Oh I wish.
