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I just returned home from five days away and I’m thrilled to be back with boys. I couldn’t stop hugging them last night and then Ty my youngest, sat on my lap while we watched the finale for Dancing With The Stars, and frankly, my youngest is kind of big to be on my lap. But at eight he still thinks he belongs there and as there’s no one younger to challenge his ‘baby’ status he continues to claim the lap when he needs TLC.

But then it was bed and sleep and alarm early this morning, 6:30 am here being 3:30 am Hawaii time so waking up hurt. And rousing them to action hurt even more. But we got through morning routine without fighting or shouting which is an A+ morning in my book.

I drove Jake to his jr high school and enroute the bulldog barfed in the backseat, missing the leather seat for the carpet side near the door, conveniently coating seat belt, screws, little pieces that are incredibly inaccessible and therefore incredibly difficult to clean.

Returning home I drag out cleaning supplies, clean backseat and carpet and difficult inaccessible area and as I’m cleaning I notice my busy body, control freak neighbor has just chopped a huge limb from my gorgeous new lilac tree and my blood pressure shoots up.

I calm myself, tell myself even hacked, its a beautiful lilac tree and head in house. I stop inside the door to pick up dirty socks in hallway. Then I gather strewn boy shoes–two pairs tennis shoes, one pair flip flops, and one pair cleats. I put breakast dishes in dishwasher, head upstairs, pick up wet towel from bathroom floor, pick up another wet towel from older son’s room, chase dog from younger son’s room where she’s destroying yet another beloved toy. Phone rings. Can’t find phone. Anywhere. Miss call. Still no phone. Pick up empty soda can from bonus room. Pick up dirty plate with old pizza crust and carry downstairs. Pick up scattered newspaper. Pick up yet another dirty sock.

Note somewhere between searching for missing phone and finding yet more dirty white athletic socks that I’ve sighed. Heavily.

The euphoria of returning has gone bye bye. I’m really home, aren’t I?

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