Revenge

Okay, maybe it's harsh of me to title a post "Revenge."  I'm not a vengeful person, and I don't generally wish ill on people.  But there's been an interesting addition to the story of my cousin's marriage, related here and here.  This cousin is part of my extremely Catholic extended family, and she's one of six children.  Five of them, including her, are the marry young, have lots of babies, convert the world type Catholics.  The only son, ironically, doesn't particularly care for Catholicism, or religion much, and in August is marrying a Russian Jewish girl in a fairly nonreligious ceremony officiated by a rabbi.

And V and I are the wedding photographers.

I have NO idea if he's told his family, or what sort of reaction they will have, but it brings a sweet, sweet smile to my face to think that after V was blatantly not invited to his sister's wedding, she'll now be the person behind the camera, telling that same sister to smile.

And damn it's gonna feel good.

Crazed

In the shower this morning-
V: Okay, I want a baby.
Me: Cough up some sperm!
V: It's not in my lungs...

We ended up at Baby Gap earlier today, since it was conveniently right next door to where we were going.  All the boys' clothes were adorable, for either gender.  All the girls' clothes were nauseating.  Which is strange, because I usually love baby girl clothes, but these were weird pastels with writing all over them.  Whereas the boys' line was stripes, plaids, jumpers, and utterly adorable orange and navy knitted bodysuit with kneepads.

And I asked V about her favorite clothes just now, and she was pretty animated in describing things.  Sometimes I don't think we want a baby for a baby's sake, but to give us an excuse to buy all the awesome kids' stuff.  We were also in a museum gift shop today, and there are so many educational kids' crafts and kits and toys.  The homeschooler in me really starts to come out.

We can has baby nao?

Redo

The short version:
On Thursday, I clipped the back of a parked truck with the passenger mirror of the twins' van.  The mirrors are hinged; no damage to truck, no structural damage to mirror, just shattered mirror glass.
Friday, the kids' dad asks me to pull the van out of the garage (which he usually does, as their garage is super narrow).  It's a vote of confidence that I appreciate greatly.  Until I almost take the passenger mirror off while trying to get it out.
Thursday, Friday, and today: I feel like shit.

What the hell is wrong with me lately?!

Allergic

As soon as I rolled the window down to pay for airport parking, as we drove home, I started sneezing.  I think I've gone through half a box of tissues since then (at least).  Plus some coughs, a fuzzy head, and a bit of a bloody nose last night.  Pleasant, huh?

V is almost better: still weak and tired, but eating almost like a normal person, and she's back to work today.  I went back yesterday, and since it was so beautiful, I took the kids to a playground for a few hours.  Of course, it was also incredibly windy, and there were a few times I thought Lilly would blow over.  She didn't.

Down

Tonight, there is less relaxing bath-and-wine time.  We went to a friend's for dinner, V felt sick on the way over and never recovered, and she's thrown up four times now.  I could cry.  We can't seem to go on a trip without one of us getting sick.

Thankfully, tomorrow we transfer to a bed and breakfast, and we may then spend the entire day in our room.  Yes, we love this city, but we've been before and we know we'll be back; apparently we need to recuperate from something.

Stress wasn't supposed to follow me here.  Hoping it's gone tomorrow.

Away

I just left the jacuzzi tub where V and I were drinking wine.  To say that this trip was necessary is an understatement.  We've spent wonderful time with extended and, needless to say, accepting family; we've relaxed like we haven't in weeks.

A successful travel, to me, is where you truly feel in a different world: where after only a few hours, home and reality seem light-years away.  I can't believe that it was only about thirty hours ago that we left to drive to the airport.  That fact makes me so very content.

The glass of wine helps, too.

Moment

I'm curled up on the couch, under my beloved brown fuzzy blanket, trying to take a moment to relax, breathe, and stop this horrific sore throat that I developed yesterday.  It's only getting worse, and now has a headache buddy too.  V is upstairs packing; I did some, and then needed a break.  Did I mention that the sink is overflowing with dishes?  I was supposed to do them about two hours ago.

Why must vacations come with so much stress?