"Reentry" in reference to coming back home and readjusting to real life after a trip. Because it really needs an official term, the difficulty has been very official. It's not that being away made life that much easier, Mike wasn't even with me the first week, the girls slept terribly, our schedules were super packed and it was exhausting. But is was so fun, out of the ordinary and full of family and fun.
Coming back to real life is making all of us, ok really just all of us females, ok really just me and the toddler females, all kinds of crazy. I already touched on my emotional state from leaving family, and while that has gotten much better, the children may just get me committed by the end of the week.
I cannot even come close to counting how many rolling on the floor, violent, kicking, screaming, yelling NO over and over again at no one and for no reason, tantrums Bernadette has thrown... in the last 4 hours. Naomi has started talking to me like I am her fellow play mate, and has on multiple occasions said in response to me telling her what's going on "No, that's just not how it is going to be. I am the 4-year-old, and I make the decisions." Yes, I have to run to another room and breath into a paper bag.
Luckily I have fabulous friends in town that are really helping me not to go completely insane. The day after we got back I was forced to throw both older girls into the stroller before 9 a.m., as soon as it was legit to lay Lucy down for a morning nap, to go for a "run" before my brain fell out of my head from all the screaming. Within 5 minutes of the wog I got a phone call from one friend inviting me over for a couple gin and tonics that evening- um, YES. It was awesome. Then on the same walk, I passed a lovely friend who stopped to say she was so happy we were back, after which we made a pit stop to pick up beef and eggs from some great friends who get it for us from a local farm every week (not for free, we pay them, they're not that awesome). I love them all.
Yesterday morning also necessitated an exodus from these domestic confines over to our favorite play date spot, which also happens to be the home of one of my best SB friends. It was the most peacefully the girls have played since we have been back and I got to have good adult conversation while I watched Lucy come thisclose to crawling and tried to not freak out over it.
Where am I going with this? I was trying to stay positive, but that just can't last. Let's see what else there is...
Today I thought it would be a good idea to venture out to a local blueberry ranch to pick berries with all three girls. As we walked toward the entrance, I wondered why people were staring at me like I was a complete idiot. I had scoped out the lanes between the bushes and assessed that our double stroller could fit through, what was the big deal? Well, I think that perhaps all the pro-pickers realized that picking enough blueberries to make it worth anybodies while takes a really long time. Because blueberries are really small and the bucket was so very big. In other words, I am a complete idiot.
After Bernadette inhaled easily a pint from our first bush, she was totally bored and started whining to go home. Naomi has some sensitive eye issues and could only pick with one hand while she held her sunglasses on as tightly as she could with the other hand all while complaining that she couldn't see the berries with the glasses on. Ok.
Lucy only started crying after a really long time of sitting alone in the stroller with absolutely nothing to do because I am such a great mother and brought z e r o toys or anything at all for her. So naturally she had her first taste of blueberries. By our second bush, and after pushing the stroller through a crowd of approximately 77 glaring eyes to get to it, Lucy went on to my back, both Naomi and Bernadette were done with picking and had moved on to alternating between punching each other and screaming and asking if we were done yet.
So yeah, I'd say we adequately reenacted Blueberries for Sal. Minus the bear. Or the good child behavior. Or anything close to an impressive amount of blueberries to show for our trip.
What will tomorrow bring? Day one of operation Get Bernadette Potty Trained, of course. Because we really hate ourselves. And until then I will be standing at the pantry where all the potty training treats are stashed, weeping into my salad bowl.
Happy reentry, party people.