Okay, I get it. I just got home from vacation. I am tanner than before I left, I have more freckles than before I left, I finished yet another hilarious Jen Lancaster book on vacation (sadly, now I've read them all and am desperately awaiting the 4th book, ya hear that Jen? get busy!), my kids are worn out (more so than before we left), my dog is worn out (spending 11 nights at doggie daycare can be tiring business, apparently), my husband is back at work (praise be the work gods, sometimes too much togetherness is . . . well, just that - too much togetherness), the laundry is nearly complete and I've warned the kids not to dirty up a single sock in the next few days because I, will not be washing another item until next week - that is unless Electrolux decides to send me a brand spanking new washer and dryer (hey, and while you're at it why not a dishwasher and new oven too?), so I should be fine right?
I think that may have been the longest sentence I've ever written, sheesh.
Anyway, I should be fine. I should be basking in the post-vacation glow of having navigated yet another family vacation full of happy memories, happy times and happy hour. I mean come on, you can't expect to have all that happy without a cocktail, can you?
But I hit the bottom today. Of what, I have no idea - but all my best laid plans to be productive and actually accomplish anything flew like tiny particles in the wind, not sure of where they were going but definitely not hanging around here any longer. Oh yes, me and my bad post-vacation self, we are a lot of fun to hang out with.
The kids were irritating me. The house was irritating me. The phone and every single thing on the television we hadn't sat in front of for more than a week was irritating me. I suspect that if Molly Ringwald herself had shown up for a private screening of Sixteen Candles in my living room that would have irritated me too.
So after lamenting all day about all the irritating things in my life, I packed the kids up and headed (the whole 2 miles) to grandma's house.
And my mom and I sat and watched the kids swim (as if they hadn't had enough of that activity over the past week) and slowly, but surely, my mood lifted. I felt the tension and the ball of frustration that had attached itself to the base of my neck subside. My skin was warmed by the sun, my thirst was quenched with a big glass of water and my soul was happy, peaceful and finally relaxed.
The laundry would wait.
Because right then, it was plain to see, that I - yes, 35-year-old I, needed my mommy.