Last weekend we went out of town with My Dear Husband’s side of the family. Ten grownups, nine littles, and one lonely teenager. (And that was only half the family.)
It was awesome.
Awesome and a teeny bit stressful.
Awesome in a “game playing, enjoying family, hiking, eating too much, tons of little kids running in all directions” kind of way.
Stressful in a “get those kids away from the river, make them stop hitting each other, who’s screaming now, is it bedtime yet” kind of way.
Fat, Happy Baby started standing up by herself and is so close to walking that I guess I’ll soon have to rename her Miss Toddler or something.
Miss 5, 7, and 9 hiked three miles, without any trouble at all, and Miss 3 made it one mile holding my hand before she said, “Mommy, can you pick up all of me now?”
(I’m not strangling her in this pic, just trying to get her to look up at daddy and the camera.)
It was totally worth it and I have to admit, it is also totally nice to be home.
When I got three of the girls off to school this morning and Miss 3 and Fat Happy Baby were off playing by themselves, I noticed it was really quiet in the kitchen.
Home Sweet Home.
