Whew. What a weekend.
Anyway, I was stressed because we were scheduled to fly to Austin to celebrate my grandmother's 90th birthday. And since she specifically said no presents, I was worried about giving her the gift that keeps on giving - some sort of respiratory infection - courtesy of my children. Not only was I worried it would probably kill her, I felt sure it would make me the least popular grandchild.
But we made it on the plane (yes, that was us coughing behind you in row 22 and pulling the shade up and down because the person who had won the right to be in that seat was on a power trip and raising and lowering at will in order to piss off the less fortunate siblings) where, of course, the man in front of me strongly hinted that he wanted a scalp massage by reclining as far as he possibly could and then stretching his entire body so that the seat went back a couple of inches more.
(This is a side note, but why does that always happen to me? I'm always the tallest woman on the plane and I noticed, when I looked around, that not one other person had reclined except the man in front of me. The reclining of others brings out my inner bitch and forces me to knee the back of the seat just when I think you're starting to fall asleep and allow my tray table to fall and bounce several times during the flight. I don't like the person I become when you recline. And I'm sure you like it less.)
We finally made it to Austin and after getting off the plane, saw the smiling faces of my parents who had driven a few days earlier and picked us up at the airport. We were there for less than 48 hours and tried our best to catch up with as many people as we could. I loved hanging out with family members I never get to see and catching up with my grandmother, something I don't do as often as I should.
It's crazy to see how much we've all changed. All of us cousins who were once wild teenagers are all settled and (yikes!) driving minivans. Our attention was divided between the conversations we wanted to have with each other and trying to find various children who had wandered off to find reptiles to take home or mud to jump in. And, to the surprise of my uncle, we bid each other goodnight both nights by 9:30 PM, and then stayed awake all night, not because of raucous partying...but because our children talk, snore, and sometimes beat us to a pulp in their sleep.
By the time we got home last night after our second flight in less than 48-hours (where I continually held the fact that it was Mother's Day over my kids' heads, hoping to guilt them into good behavior. Yeah. Didn't work), we were completely exhausted. I put in a load of laundry that had already started to melt and mildew in my suitcase. The kids took out the "fun stuff" in their backpacks and got ready for school the next day. And in a blink the weekend was over.
But never forgotten.
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