Or something along those lines, I always say.
I am back from Camp Baby. I had a complete and utter, although terribly exhausting, ball. I popped my Twitter cherry - oh, how I loved the twittering that went on. As is evidenced by this picture here. Belinda actually took a pic of me that I didn't hate.
I will be blogging about this trip over on Scrutiny, which you can find by pushing the button on the right down there, below the fold. But not, I think, until next week. It'll take me that long to recover from tonight.
For, you see, I was sorely missed by my entire family. It is a fact in my house that it takes a grown up woman to get it done. I think it must have something to do with the breasts. I walked in to "Mom's home! She's back!" and everyone ran to hug me. And then they started fighting, and I saw the laundry piled up - although clean, I have to give them that - and the dishes piled up - those, they were dirty - and opened the microwave to see sauce and cheese all over the inside and a certain older person called my house, called me THICK for not wanting company right that second, and he was coming over ANYWAY, and the youngest one was screaming and the fruit on the counter was moldy and the power cord for the laptop was in the water and...
and I went upstairs to put my little ones to bed and I rocked them. They climbed on my lap, those big girls of four and five, they stroked each others back and demanded "Wheels on the bus" again and again. I breathed in and breathed out and tried as much as I could to relax.
Until I came downstairs and saw the mess. So then I burned some really yummy fragrance oil - orange cupcake - and was calmed, until I remembered that SOMEONE inspected my suitcase on the flight to Newark - my gorgeous pink with white polka dots hard shell suitcase that I've used twice - and BROKE the zipper, so that you have to unpack it by sticking your hand in through the top and working with a three inch space.
So then I ate some chocolate chips and went to bed.