Homeward Bound

My look of longing is due to staying just one day too long on my trip to see friends and family for Christmas. I feel like  listening to Simon and Garfunkel while crying because I can't bare being away from home a minute longer.

Had we just left yesterday I would probably have felt a trip back would be a priority, but presently I feel like never returning again.

My kids had the urge to return home after the first day of the trip. The trip peaked for them after the first night when we went swimming. Watching me shriek from the chilly pool temperature and even more chilly air was pretty funny for them. They are part polar bear because even with chattering teeth they were crying as I pulled them from the water to go to our room before they became hypothermic. If they'd just sit in the hot tub with mommy we could have stayed longer.

From that point on they became unhinged, to put it nicely. My daughter's behavior at breakfast was an indication of how things would be. Saturday she started screaming how she hates eggs but was insistent on ordering an omelette. The following day she crumbled when I told her French Toast was not an option. During these scenes I avoid looking around because I don't want to see sympathetic looks or, even worse, looks of annoyance. I see how they burnt out much faster than me since every holiday party we went to they were honed in on by every other patron and by the time they recovered from some relative yapping one inch from their nose, another one swoops in to blow their tongue in their face, inadvertently spitting in their face and mine as well (although that part was likely intended). 

Buzzed adults love getting a baby's face. Their drink sloshes around and ice cubes clink as they move into the kids. The kids reaction involves them screaming in terror and then trying to climb up my body like a bear climbing a tree, which involves a lot of fingernail gripping. The buzzed adult is unfazed by my kids' rude reaction, and it's likely because they couldn't understand my kids were saying, "go away, ahhhh, scary, help me mommy!!!" Regardless I apologize.

My favorite morning was taking the kids to Santa Monica. We parked, loaded up the double stroller and started toward the beach. After a stop at Jamba Juice (my daughters brand recognition is starting to slow us down as I was unclued in on her passion for Jamba Juice) and my plowing the stroller through the sand like Boxer from Animal Farm. The sand stretched at least a half mile, but it was worth the work because the kids ran to the water like we were in the Bahamas.

I thought they'd surely halt when their little toes felt the cold Pacific, but they are polar bears, and they let the water cover their feet as I kicked off my shoes and chased them before they walked out deep enough to be swept up. 

Of course, a wave came and soaked us, and forgetful mommy didn't bring a change of clothes so they went pants free as we walked the pier and rode the Ferris wheel. 

The Ferris wheel was a leap of faith since either one of them could have pulled a reckless move which led to them diving off the side. We survived although I had to keep my son in a vice grip and constantly tell my daughter to stay seated on her butt.

After Santa Monica there was still THREE days to go. So we endured people spitting in our faces. Last night I woke up at 3 am and had the realization that we left our fish at home, and she might be dead, since she hasn't eaten in a week. Hopefully she is much more resilient than us, who cry and complain frequently. After our final breakfast at the hotel buffet, we packed up the car, and I vowed to eat salad for the rest of the week. We are going to Mexico on Friday, and we won't know anyone. It's going to be great.

Here is my daughter excited to be heading home and pretending to captain the ship. As I Tetris in our luggage and thousands of presents, she orders me around. For people who don't speak 3-year-old, it loosely translates as, "Mommy, get me the fuck out of here!"