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A Mother of a Mental Load

This inner-monologue is every mom, ever.

Inspired by true events…

6:00 am: Ahh, what a good night’s sleep! I was only woken up once! What’s today?… Tuesday. Preschool for the big one, Little Gym for the baby & ballet class. I need to squeeze in some work while they nap. Today is definitely manageable. (smiles to herself)

Time to get everyone fed, changed, dressed, brushed & out the door.

Shoot, her leotard is dirty. (Throws in first load of laundry & continues on with the morning routine, reaching into the fridge…)

Aw man, we’re low on milk. I think this will last us until about…(analyzes milk carton) lunchtime. Can I get to the grocery store before 2:00? Not a chance. I’d better just place a Safeway order for delivery – it will be here tomorrow…

TOMORROW. What is tomorrow’s schedule? What time can I be here to receive groceries?

What will I put in the baby’s bottle tonight? Half & half? The milk will definitely be gone before bedtime. Maybe I can water it down. I bet she won’t even notice.

HALF & HALF… COFFEE! I need some, now. (puts on pot of coffee)

Gah, we’re out of sugar… and toilet paper… and toothpaste – better add them to my grocery order.

TOOTHPASTE. The girls have a dentist appointment tomorrow! Shoot – I’ll have to move that grocery delivery.

APPOINTMENT. I need to make an appointment with our pediatrician to update our vaccination card before preschool registration.

PRESCHOOL! I still need to sign that permission slip and send in my order for spring pictures. I’ll take them with us this morning… now where in the world did I put them…?? Spring picture order….

SPRING! Oh my gosh it’s already spring. What day exactly? How many days do I have until we’re delinquent on our taxes?  The IRS probably already has a warrant for my arrest. I don’t even know what day it is. (looks at calendar) March, oh okay, whew, we’re only in….

MARCH! Oh my gosh we have three birthday parties this month and I have to get gifts, RSVP, update our family calendar… March…

Has the Easter Bunny done all of his preparation yet? What are we doing for Easter this year?

I need to make a reservation to see the Easter Bunny at the mall. That’s what all the other moms do. All of the OTHER moms have already registered their kids for summer camps, too… I bet all the good ones are already full. Ugh, I can’t keep up with these Moms!

SUMMER. I really need to figure out those vacation dates, book our flights, rent the car… hotel room… 

Okay, everyone looks halfway decent (except mom) Out the door; off to school & gym.  Oh no, I never drank the coffee… guess I’ll have it over ice – with lunch.

Dropping first child off at school: Oh My gosh that mom had her baby! That’s so exciting. I need to take them a meal. I’ll add the ingredients to my grocery order.

MEAL. what on Earth am I going to feed my family tonight? I guess they’ll have to settle for scrambled eggs & toast. Oh, but we hard-boiled all the eggs and colored them pink for Easter… Egg Salad it is.

At Little Gym with the baby: Gosh, I swear everyone I know is pregnant. Should I get pregnant again? Stop it. No. Regardless, I need to make a GYN appointment – awesome, my favorite. 

How in the world will I find a sitter at 2:30 on a Thursday so that I can go to the doctor?  Maybe if I do find one, she can stay long enough for me to go get my hair cut.  I haven’t had a haircut in at least a year.

Ugh, my husband probably thinks I’ve given up…. have I given up? 

I can’t give up. I should really try to get a workout in this week. Maybe some chin ups on that little gymnastics bar in the corner? Okay, be serious. I wonder if my husband can come home early tomorrow night so I can go to Soul Cycle.

Oh wait, is tomorrow the night he has that work dinner? Yep, then he’s out of town for three nights. Guess I’m on my own.  I should probably throw away all of my skinny jeans. (Fights back tears since she’s in public).

Driving home from Little Gym: (she lets herself cry just a little)  Whew, now I’ll have a full hour at home before preschool pickup. I’ll clean the house and feed the baby. A clean house will feel good.

CLEANING. It. Never. Ends. I should go through the toy bins and purge. I should go through my closet and purge. We have so much crap. How do people live in those tiny houses? We should become minimalists.

But seriously. I should have the rugs deep cleaned and vacuum behind the couch today. I really need to call the electrician to fix the light in the hallway and get a quote to restore the stone on the bathroom floor. I wonder how much that will cost. Maybe I should work a few extra hours this week.

Sigh… I need an adult vacation. (Cries again when she realizes that means leaving her kids for a few days)

School pickup. Fix lunch. Clean up lunch. Get kids down for naps. Work for 20 minutes. Kids wake up.

I will muster the energy to get everybody ready for ballet- and out of the door again – somehow. Why is changing a toddler’s cloths so difficult. Can’t she stand up straight for 30 seconds. My back is going to break. I need a massage.  I shouldn’t spend the money.

Speaking of spending money: should I spend the kids’ education fund on organic produce, or save for college & risk that we all get cancer? It’s a gamble.  Maybe I’ll just order organic produce.

PRODUCE! Strawberries! Add those to my order. Thank goodness for Safeway delivery. What did Moms do before Amazon and Blue Apron? Oh yeah, they left us in the car when they went into the grocery store for milk & strawberries. If I did that now, I’d get arrested. That is, if the IRS doesn’t get me first. I hate people.

We’re late. We’re chronically late.

At ballet: I can’t forget to register for the spring recital. I wonder what size costume to order…she’s sort of between sizes right now. In fact, she’s outgrown all of her cloths. I need to take her shopping. When we get home I should go through her closet. 

When we get home I also need to send a family email, letting them know about the recital and the baby’s baptism.  Where is that baptismal gown? Did I ever have it dry cleaned after our last baby was baptized?

I need to pick up the dry cleaning.

Did I send the pastor everything he asked me for?  Oh, no, I still have to come up with a life verse.  Add it to my list… also brunch reservations…a photographer…

Loads everyone BACK into the car and drives home in a daze while kids talk/yell in the backseat.

At home: Is it bedtime yet? Nope, only 4:30. Good Heaven WHEN is my husband coming home?

I should be reading them books. I don’t have the energy. Maybe just one hour of Mickey Mouse is okay.  Mickey is educational.

Two hours of Mickey Mouse later:  (feeling guilty for not reading to the kids, but at least the house is somewhat clean). I need to feed the kids. Again. Why do they  need to eat so much?! What kind of “healthy” stuff can I scrape together tonight?

Please don’t throw that broccoli on the floor! I JUST cleaned that floor… It’s no use. Why do I bother?  Oh sure just smear it down your shirt, now I’ll have to wash… 

The laundry! (runs to the laundry room & smells 10 hour-old damp load. Throws it in the dryer) I hope I remember to grab that stuff before bed – I probably won’t.

Baths. Diapers. Pajamas. Bedtime stories. Songs. Lights Out. Rebelling Kids. Finally, peace & quiet.

Damn – tomorrow is garbage day. (collects the trash & hauls the bins to the curb) Eew, these diapers smell disgusting… DIAPERS… add those to the delivery.

Ugh, I can’t get the bins out of the garage. Why did I park the car so close to the wall?

CAR. The car needs to go in for service.  I hope they have a loaner car for me that’s big enough for 2 car seats.  Never mind. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.

Man, I’m exausted.  What did I even accomplish today?  Nothing. Litterally, nothing that doesn’t have to be done again in twelve hours, or two days from now, or again next week.

Thank goodness I get to go to the office tomorrow. Sweet Dreams. See y’all at 6.

xxx,

MamaFulch

Proverbs 31: 25-30     Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.” …

 

 

Our RSV Story

I knew it was going to be bad when our feisty two-year-old spent her 4th consecutive day glued to the couch; a 103 degree fever consumed her tiny body. She refused to eat or drink anything for almost a week.  Preschool. We knew the source, but the aftermath of her illness was what concerned us the most.  With a four week old at home, we knew it could be bad, we just couldn’t have imagined how bad it would get. 

Months earlier, as we anticipated the arrival of our second baby in mid-October (hello flu season!), I started preparing for the inevitable.  Flu shots for everyone.  Probiotics, vitamins and homeopathic remedies stocked. Baby-wearing gear on deck. And of course, breastfeeding – to provide the necessary antibodies. I knew the second time around, motherhood would be different. With a brand new two-year-old and her vulnerable immune system heading off to preschool, I was sure a large army of germs would soon be marching toward our doorstep.  I was actually happy to stay pregnant for forty-one weeks; a big baby would only help us in the impending war.  

I was told, “This will get worse before it gets better, but she will most likely be able to fight it at home.”… and  I hung on those words like her life depended on them.

We made it nineteen days before baby registered her first “fever”; 100.4 – barely there, but beyond the safe threshold for fever in newborns. If anything I was – annoyed.  The whole family had been battling a minor cold, so, it was the baby’s turn (I assumed).  That, or I’d wrapped her in too many blankets. 

After a quick conversation with an advice nurse, we were on our way to the hospital.  Pediatrics admitted us for overnight observation, where routine blood & urine samples were taken.  And although she was asymptomatic within an hour of our arrival (Indeed, I’d wrapped her in too many blankets), her blood culture came back positive for a common strain of staph – most likely a lab error – we were told.  Still, a spinal tap, countless blood draws, 3 nights of intravenous antibiotics & 4 more days of shots, is how our baby girl spent her third week of life. “Precautionary”, we were told.  Invasive, is how it felt. And after subjecting my little girl to so much (could it have been unnecessary?) medical intervention, I questioned whether I’d made the right choice in taking her to the doctor in the first place.

Then it was Thanksgiving (we hadn’t seen the inside of a doctor’s office in ten whole days) when our oldest started showing signs of another cold. So, I quarantined the baby to a different room & once again, braced for impact. As the illness progressed, it became clear to me that, should the baby be exposed to this bug, we’d likely be in deep trouble.

For a toddler, RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus) is often pretty miserable.  High fever, relentless deep cough, severe nasal congestions, no appetite… Nobody in the house sleeps for a week, but it’s survivable.  However, in a newborn, RSV it can be life threatening.  

At four weeks old, our poor baby girl was defenseless. When her symptoms started appearing – the severe congestion and labored breathing – I took her to the pediatrician right away.  They ran a nasal swab which confirmed RSV was the culprit. Thankfully, her oxygen levels looked good. I was told, “This will get worse before it gets better, but she will most likely be able to fight it at home.”… and  I hung on those words like her life depended on them.

She can fight this at home. Don’t worry when things get worse.

I so badly wanted to avoid another visit to the ER, where I felt so foolish weeks before when my infant daughter’s spinal canal was being punctured in the name of precaution.

So, when things did get worse, my husband rigged a home steam room out of plastic tarps and humidifiers to help loosen the mucous. Her nose was so congested (Did you know newborns don’t know how to breath out of their mouths? Neither did I.) and her airways were becoming increasingly inflamed & blocked.  The skin on her chest pulled in between her tiny ribs with every labored breath.  Eighty respirations per minute is what I counted… At what point was I to let go of those words…. “she will probably be able to fight this at home”.

By the third night, her nasal passages were so congested that she couldn’t nurse. I tried a bottle – it was no better.  I was sure she would become dehydrated, so I tried syringe feeding, but she choked on the milk & the mucous in her stomach and, to my horror, projectile vomited what little milk she had been able to take in.  I didn’t sleep that night. I never left her side. I never stopped watching her tiny chest rise and fall, wondering just how many more times her lungs would fight to catch a breath. 

I packed a hospital bag for the car. Just in case. Then I prayed harder than I’d ever prayed before.

The next morning I started monitoring wet diapers & trying relentlessly to get fluids in her. We sat down to nurse every 15 minutes (not easy with a two-year-old on my arm), and at 5 pm, the tiniest of blue lines appeared on her Pampers Swaddler – I was ecstatic! But my happy dance was followed almost immediately by a violent episode of choking and vomit – a mix of milk and thick, green mucous.

She was not going to fight this at home.

At 6 pm on a dark, chilly, November night, I thew that hospital bag in the car, strapped both kids in, and headed to the ER once again.  My husband and in-laws would meet me there.  At check in, our baby’s vitals were taken – including her O2 saturation. A concerned nurse swept us right through triage, and in to a private room where she told us that a room was being prepped in the pediatric wing – we would be staying.  We held an oxygen tube near our daughter’s nose, and watched as her oxygen levels rose and fell with the tube’s proximity.

When we finally got to our room, I watched as a swarm of doctors and nurses surrounded our tiny daughter – IV line, oxygen, monitors of all sorts…. I overheard one nurse say that her oxygen level was 66% – low enough to cause brain damage. 

My reason for the ER visit was dehydration. I really hadn’t considered lack of oxygen to her brain or other organs. What if I’d waited one more day?  I almost waited – because I didn’t want to seem like an over-nervous parent.  My pride nearly broke her.

I burst into unrelenting sobs.  Tears of guilt. Tears of joy that there was finally oxygen in her lungs and fluid in her veins. Tears of relief that I could once again sleep & let the machines monitor her breathing. There were lots of tears. Ugly, hormonal, pent-up postpartum tears.

The next 5 days were full of alarms going off and breathing treatments and deep suction and more blood work and torture.  I left that tiny room only twice in 120 hours.  But while baby girl was fighting in the hospital, Daddy & Big Sister got busy on the Christmas decorations so that we’d return to a warm, festive home. And we did.

So this week, as I unbox our Christmas decorations, and work endlessly to keep four little hands off the tree, I’m ever-so-grateful for my family, our health and our resilience.

I’ve learned to worry (just a little bit) less about what’s going to happen. That although I can’t always protect my family as fiercely as I want to, I should listen to my instincts. I’ll never again feel foolish or over-concerned when it comes to my child’s health.  It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

Psalm 34:17-20    When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all. He keeps all his bones; not one of them is broken.

Parenting is Easy – Just Follow This Advice

Breast is best – but not in public – that’s gross. Only breastfeed in your house. Make sure to get out of the house when you have a newborn.

Don’t leave the house between naps or your baby might fall asleep in the car. Napping in the car will mess with his schedule. Don’t ever wake a sleeping baby, unless you’re trying to protect a sleep schedule – overtired babies won’t sleep. Extinction is the only way to get a baby to sleep, but if you let baby cry, he’ll feel neglected. Forever.

Don’t neglect your child; don’t over-parent, either. If you hover he’ll never learn his limits. Playing independently will definitely result in injury, so never leave your child unattended.

Leaving your child unattended is the only way to get anything done. But never mind the laundry – it will still be there tomorrow.  Just make sure baby has clean clothes today. Also make sure the baby eats a well balanced, organic, homemade diet. 

Good nutrition includes plenty of vegetables, but don’t make mealtime a power-struggle. Never use food as bribery. Give out treats for using the potty – this will help you break through a child’s  potty training resistance.

Don’t push potty training before your child is ready. Let your child reach milestones at his own pace. You won’t be able to send your child to preschool until he uses the potty, and preschool is an extremely important milestone.

Play-based preschools are the only way to go, but some kids thrive in more structured environments. Give your child plenty of boundaries & firm discipline, then stand back and let him assert his independence.

Be consistent.

Sign your toddler up for swim lessons, a soccer team, music class, ballet & open gym to help him cultivate his interests. Quiet days at home are important. Overstimulation can cause social disorders & brain damage. So will TV.

Don’t let him watch more than one hour of TV per day. (see ‘never mind the laundry’, above.)

Support him – not too much – he might just learn to depend on you.

Dependency is weak. Expressing feelings is brave. Encourage him to unapologetically express BIG emotions. Teach him to apologize when his emotional rage hurts someone. 

Never force anything that’s uncomfortable for your child. Everyone knows we only grow when we get comfortable being uncomfortable….

So there you have it – really, there’s nothing to it! 😉

xxx, MamaFulch

Ephesians 6:4      Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.

When Love Isn’t Enough

All we need is love, right?

Love is the axis of human existence.  Love is strength, it is weakness, it is security & vulnerability. Love brings peace, it’s started wars; it drives good people to sin & sinners to repent. Love is wild, unpredictable, incredible, undeniable.

A life well-loved is a life well-lived; or so the saying goes.

But sometimes, love blindsides us and holds us captive in a way we aren’t prepared for.  Our world turns upside-down and right-side up all at once, leaving us fumbling for a life raft – a little blurry eyed, short of breath & paralyzed by fear.  At least, that’s how motherhood started for me.

The childless version of me didn’t think I had a love deficiency – life was going exactly according to my script: impressive degree, blossoming career, a dreamy husband who loved me unconditionally, and certainly, no shortage of confidence (Insert eye roll, here).

When my dream-of-a-husband and I welcomed our first baby, we’d already spent nine [mostly] blissful years together. We’d experienced so much life hand-in-hand that I was sure we were prepared for our next milestone: cozy pink blankets and sweet squishy snuggles with a daughter that was half him, and half me.  It sounded….romantic. 

I expected an instant bond with her; the kind that everyone talks about when they hold their newborn baby. I expected everyone to come out of the woodwork and smother us with affection.  I expected that we would be the center of everyone’s universe. I expected to feel complete and never look back.

But…reality.

A few hours into active labor is when the fear first settled in and took up semi-permanent residence.  My body, convulsing with pain, wasn’t following my script at all.  I fought every  stage with every ounce of my being. I remember thinking to myself (or maybe screaming – it’s a blur) “I can’t do this, I can’t.  Someone end it for me, I’m done.”   

Thirty-one hours, Pitocin, oxygen, & two-and-a-half hours of pushing later, I held my daughter for the first time. I felt…. exhausted. overwhelmed. terrified.

Of course, I fell instantly in love with my daughter – I had an unparalleled urge to protect & defend her – but she felt like a stranger in my arms. A stranger who had just ravaged by body & stollen my previous life. So naturally, when love didn’t feel like enough, I was sure she’d been born to the worst mother in the world, and I was only minutes into the journey.

The abrupt transition from doted-on expectant-mother into the selfless world of life with a newborn left me dizzy and insecure – constantly grasping for assurance. But as days turned to weeks, and the novelty of her newness wore off, everyone else returned to their normal lives.

How, I wondered, can the Earth still be spinning on her axis when my whole world is upside-down?

Day after day, I faced a slew of unmet expectations & even more unexpected challenges. There were the hormones that made me burst into tears without warning (that lasted for months). I had a baby that didn’t sleep, and 102 people giving me conflicting advice (and judgement) on how to get some rest.  I lived in fear that my husband would lose interest in the new (but certainly not improved) version of me. I wondered if I’d still be taken seriously in my career when I returned from maternity leave. But mostly, I was crippled by a furious new love that left me open, raw & exposed – like watching my heart beat outside of my body.

Control – the thing that had always kept me pushing onward with confidence – had suddenly been stripped from my world. I could’t ensure that my baby would continue to breath through the night.  I couldn’t protect her from illness or discomfort. I knew that someday, someone would break her heart, and that my friends, nearly broke me.

So in place of control, I focused on faith. 

Faith in my own strength & resilience, faith in my marriage, faith that sleep would return, and faith that it would all be provided by a good & loving God, who has a master plan that I contribute to, but don’t control.

In faith, there is peace; but it’s an ongoing journey. 

When my second daughter arrived last year, she was met by a much more confident mother (Albeit, MUCH more exhausted). With her arrival, I found the courage to leave my job(s), volunteer commitments, and other organized groups – It was like handing in a resignation letter to my former life:

Thank you for all the opportunities & relationships you’ve provided, overcommitted self, but I’m no longer satisfied by trying to impress perfect strangers. My resume isn’t reflective of my heart, so effective immediately, I’m going to completely and unapologetically commit myself to my family.

And believe me, that did take courage.

Now, everyday I spend at home, I’m reminded that patience doesn’t come naturally to me, but it certainly is a virtue. I’m practicing patience with myself, patience with my kids, and patience to adapt to all of life’s unmet expectations.  I pray daily for God to give me the tools I need to meet toddler frustration with tender hugs, and irrational fits with composed explanations; love is only felt by others when it’s supported by calm clarity. 

To have love, grounded in faith, upheld by courage & lived out in patiencethat is where I’m finding my ‘enough’. 

xxx, MamaFulch

Philippians 4:6-7  Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Your Body on a Cross-Country Flight – WITH KIDS

I get restless staying in the same place for too long.  I need to explore, eat great food, hear new languages & lounge on exotic beaches. I need to travel.

We made a conscience decision to have kids before pets because, well, when was the last time you saw a “no babies, please” sign in a shop window or a hotel brochure?

Never.

It’s generally acceptable to take tiny humans into civilized establishments. And so, I had big expectations for the trajectory of my travel career – even during mommyhood.

With that, each of my children completed their first round-trip flight before hitting the two-month mark.  And since then, they’ve flown (on average) once every 8 weeks – sometimes more. I should have flying with kids down to a science….

So, on the heels of our recent summer vacation, I feel inspired to discourage all the parents out there. This is: your body on a cross-country flight – WITH KIDS…  😉

Airport Bound: Optimistic. You’ve downloaded all of their favorite shows, packed crowd-pleasing snacks, books and ‘new toys they’ve never seen before’.  It’s only 6 hours…. Maybe they’ll sleep the whole time… You grab a second cup of coffee, just in case.

Hour 0: You get the jitters.  It could be the caffein, or it could be because you’ve taken your toddler to the airplane bathroom – twice – and the plane hasn’t even left the gate. As other passengers board, they look into your row, then down at their seat assignment. If they’re sitting far, far away, they give an encouraging smile. If they’re doomed to sit nearby, they go pale. So do you.

Hour 1: Calm comes over you. Wheels up. iPads on. The baby is nursing, and therefore, quiet. Yep, It’s going to be okay. Only 5 hours and 12 minutes until arrival (not that you’re counting), and you packed hours worth of toys, games, shows & snacks. You’ve got this!!

Hour 2: Panic. You don’t got this! Any other day you’d have to pry your toddler away from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, but today, she wants nothing to do with TV – or civility.  She starts body luging off of her seat, whining as her tiny form crumples to the floor.  Nothing in her backpack is amusing. Meanwhile, the baby has awoken from her 20 minute milk-coma. Your arm is still asleep and you have to pee sooo bad – really regretting that second cup of coffee right now.  Four more hours…

Hour 3: Hot Flashes & Cold sweats.  You’ve hit survival mode. You managed to use the bathroom while holding the baby and trying not to let your toddler sit on the wet floor (you failed). And now, you’re looking for ways to keep your circus contained to a 6’x2’ cell (ahem, I mean row) for three more hours. Beads of sweat form. Your mind goes blank. Four people in three seats for six hours – you’re not sure how this is legal.

Hour 4: You’ve lost all sense of time. You check the time and are excited to see that touchdown is in an hour and a half – you’re feeling like a rockstar mom & your heart flutters. When you look again, you realize that your AppleWatch changed time zones over Nebraska, and you actually have upwards of 2 hours to go. All hope is lost. You return to pacing the aisle while one child sprints ahead of you (throwing elbows) and the baby screams & flails about in your arms. Is time moving backward?

Hour 5: Hope Returns. You’ve broken the 2 hour barrier (for real this time) – a glimmer of hope, immediately eradicated by claustrophobia.  This airplane is the hottest, stickiest place you’ve been since you spent a summer in Florida without AC.  Hair sticks to the back of your neck as little hands paw at your face and chest, vying for attention. The guy in front of you opens hours-old curry… you choke back vomit.

Hour 6: Disbelief.  You are in disbelief that you’ve survived until the final hour, and that neither kid has taken a measurable nap. Emotions run high, mayhem is looming.  You develop an anxious knee bounce (at least the baby seems to like it) and hold your breath, waiting for the captain to mumble “Ladies & Gentleman, we’ve begun our initial descent”.  Will the moment ever come?

Landing:  Euphoria. You imagine this is what it feels like to finish an Iron Man race – endorphins flood your body. You scramble to collect your things and your offspring, only to realize that your daughter’s eyes have just closed. A tear rolls down your cheek. Sadness? Elation? You’re not sure.

At Baggage Claim: Exhausted & Starving. Your AppleWatch says you burned more calories ‘sitting’ on a plane all day than you do by completing your 10,000 steps. All you’ve eaten is 80 calories worth of airplane pretzels – oh, and two cups of coffee. You vow to stay home for the rest of your life.

1 Month Post-Flight: You experience travel amnesia and decide that a family trip to the Bahamas is just what the doctor ordered.

Happy Travels!

xxx,

MamaFulch

Proverbs 14:29:   Whoever is patient has great understanding, but one who is quick-tempered displays folly.