Last week was a dream. We spent it at the beach. Sleeping in. Playing in the sand, drifting in the lazy river, eating popsicles, walking on the boardwalk. Seeing far too many tattoos. I'll be sure to post the pics. Short of a near death experience where Henry fell off the moving golf court and bloodying his chin, and bruising his face and hip, it was as all vacations should be--joyful. Perhaps even more so because of Henry's fall, each cuddle, laugh, and embrace was cherished. The week even ended with a surprise day of fun with my sorority sister Janell's family.
But today, augh, today. Henry was in vacation detox. No amount of fun at "Caribbean Vacation" camp at the gym could contain it. And I was in no shape to re-enter the reality of bills, laundry, an IRS audit (because they're auditing everyone who applied for an adoption tax credit this year--awesome), whiny kids, and a husband who travels for work. Augh.
I promise I'll post pics of the beach trip when just thinking about trying to find the camera doesn't make me want to cry. I think the only thing I did right today was put on my socks. Which beats my yesterday, where I wore my dress to church inside out.
Life:1. Elizabeth: 0.
1 comment:
And that is exactly why I want to move to Hawaii. I mean, Matt works from home and thus can work anywhere. Since that's the case why can't we live somewhere where he can work and I can be on vacation every day of the year? I mean, honestly, why shouldn't I get to play on the beach every day while Matt works?
(And PS - so, so grateful Henry is OK. I saw the pictures on Facebook after the golf cart accident, and I am so thankful he was not more hurt. I hope his boo boos are healing quickly.)
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