A Whole New Level of Crazy

So I woke up last Wednesday knowing my mama's birthday was a couple days away. I also knew all my sisters were going home to surprise her and I'd be the only one stuck in a different state singing "Happy Birthday" via Skype. So I did what any completely neurotic person would do: I looked up flights home.

Guess what?

I found one. For $35 each, round trip. Yeah. The only catch was, the plane left from Vegas at 8am the next day.

Here's the part where I prove I'm a neurotic pregnant person: I drove to the airport (to avoid online booking fees) waited in line for two and a half hours with my squirrelly kids, and BOUGHT THE TICKETS. 

Then I raced home to pack my family. We left at 4pm that same day. I did mention I'm completely neurotic right now, didn't I? OK, then. We stayed the night with my sister's husband's uncle and aunt. No, we've never met them before. Yes, they live in a castle. We had our own wing for the 6 hours we were there.

We got up at 5am to catch our flight, managed it (just) and arrived in gloriously cool Idaho right before lunch. My sister picked me up and dropped me at the school where my mom works. Here's the video of her being totally surprised by my children. :D

I spent the ENTIRE weekend recovering from getting there. Seriously. I didn't even have the energy to make my mom a real birthday dinner two days later. We bought pizza.

Sunday my son comes into my room absolutely BEGGING to stay at Grandma's for "a real long long long time". I'd have said yes in a heartbeat but as it was, our car was sitting in the Vegas Airport Economy lot accruing fees at a staggering rate for some place called 'economy' and if we didn't go back and free it soon, we'd never be able to afford to. Honestly, parking cost more than one of the tickets. It was obscene.

The flight home was delayed, which just made the six hour drive home in the rain that much more enjoyable. Luckily I'd packed some Preparation H for the drive home (oh, the things nobody tells you about pregnancy...)

It's been cool and glorious since we've gotten home, but I haven't been able to rest because Recipe Club is at my house today. It turns out when you decide to travel, and then leave the same day, your housekeeping suffers. I've spent the last day and a half just putting things back together. I have no idea how (clean) kid underwear ended up in the fruit drawer of the fridge.
I'm super glad our plane didn't crash because then people (my in laws) would have seen my house like this, and they might actually think it was NORMAL for us. Gah! The embarrassment!

In other news, you shouldn't let your kids pack any part of their own luggage without at least checking it over first. I asked The Boy to get his Sunday shoes and put them in the bag. It wasn't until church on Sunday that we found he'd packed a non-matching pair. At least there was a left and right shoe...

I'd be a super crappy wife if I didn't mention that Husband was incredibly nice to let me haul my family across the country last minute. While he didn't enjoy the getting there, he did have a fun time surprising my mom. The weekend was kind of hectic for him, as he was moving all his software to different servers for work and had to stay up most of Saturday night with the rest of the Geeks from work to get it done. Luckily, he could do it from anywhere. Plus, it was cold enough in Idaho to warrant hot chocolate, and that always makes him happy.

I Need A Muu Muu

My in-laws just got back from 10 days cruising the islands. Laying aside the fact that I'm insanely jealous of:
a. the trip
    and
b. the time away from Arizona
  
let's focus on what's important here.

My (amazingly awesome) mother-in-law brought back this ADORABLE muu muu for Zsa Zsa.

I want one. I want this one, actually. I want it so bad I've honestly considered losing 125lbs and 3 feet so I can fit into it. Alternately, I've been thinking up designs for a human shrink-ray. But then I remembered that were I three feet shorter, I could no longer drive my kiddos to the zoo or museums. Also, I would need a new bike.
And so I'm thinking maybe my reward for losing the next 10 pounds will be an authentic, Hilo Hattie's adult size muu muu. Wouldn't that be wonderfully ironic?

Funny Stories from the Weekend

1. Sitting in church was VERY hot this Sunday so I turned my ward bulletin into fan. The Boy promptly took it from me, unfolded it, handed it back and said, "Now make a ROCKET SHIP!"

2. The Hubs and I went out to dinner without kids. He told me the following story.

His friend, "George" had a very odd boss. One day George and the boss end up at the same stop light, George in his parents station wagon and the boss in a souped up sports car. The boss challenges George to a little race. (I did mention he's odd.) So when the light turns green George sticks it the metal and about the time he's half way through the intersection the boss in his fancy sports car in clear into the next block. The boss figures he's won, so he slows down to the speed limit and George, punching the gas the entire way, catches up to him...a MILE later. It may have been the time of night, or The Hubs telling of, but I ROARED.

3. This one's not funny, but it is sweet. On our way home from Utah, The Baby started asking a question. It took us a while to figure out what she was saying but it came down to this, "Momma. Gramma, where go? "Momma. Where Gramma?" She was asking where my mom, her near constant companion, had been hiding all day. We think. I thought this was very sweet. For a while, it also sounded like she said, "G.G. here". G.G. is what my kids called my paternal grandmother. But that's probably not what she was saying, since she can't really talk anyway. She's also recently started saying the following words: duckie, yellow, blue. For blue, she started out having to strum her lips to get the 'b' sound out. A few days later she started calling me Becky. I am a little unsure what to think about that. I would probably be mad, if it weren't so darn cute.

A Light Goes Out (or more aptly) Moves On

In the dark of this night, I mourn the passing of a marvel. A light in my dark place. One of the (very) few who truly believed in me before I believed in myself.
My Grandmother.

Words will never do justice to this exceedingly fine woman, but I'm going to let them try.

Grandma had the ability to show a person how they might achieve their very best self; like a life coach, motivational speaker and Jesus, all rolled up into one. Nary a word of complaint or unkind thought toward another human being ever left her lips, in my hearing. Her power to make you believe the very best of yourself was second to none.

I had the privilege of living with her during that first semester of college when I was still wet behind the ears but thought I was all grown up. Her kindness and constant words of praise washed over me like a warm wave. I couldn't help but think I was her very favorite person in all the world, when the reality of it was, I was a VERY difficult teenager. I'm pretty sure my dad had to beg her and Grandpa to take me in when I proved too determined to stay in Idaho for school. All through those months she never stopped telling me how smart, pretty, talented, witty, charming and wonderful I was. And wasn't I just the best cook, party planner and friend? My, didn't everyone just love me? And wouldn't you know it, by the end of my time there, some of those things were true. I still believe it was because she wished them so, and not because I had anything to do with it. Toward the end there, I even started to be neat. My mother was speechless. Dad was speechless. We all stood in awe of the power that was Grandma.

I'm certain no other person on earth has come closer to death more times than my dear grandmother. But she's always thinking of others and couldn't bear to leave Grandpa alone, so she's always pulled though... until now. I can't recall all her near-death experiences in childhood, other than Scarlet Fever. She nearly died in child bed. Twice. And then there was the fiery car accident that left the VW in a heap of burning metal but from which my grandparents emerged nearly unscathed. The heart attack in the 90's, complete with life flight and month's stay in ICU. My Husband can come up with four separate times she's stood at death's door just since he's known her. Medical Marvel doesn't come close to describing her. I learned a term this week that might apply. Dura Mater. In anatomical terms it means the outer covering of the brain and spinal cord, but in Latin it means Tough Mother. And for all her softness and caring, she was tough in Spirit, and a Mother to the very core of her being.

We're pretty mopey around here this evening, thinking of the great loss of her good and kind heart, but we're also just a tad envious of the Heavenly Reunion my own sweet father must be having right now, and her joy at holding her son again.

It is the end of an era, a passing of an age. My one great hope is that someday, I can be like her.

Grandma, I wish you a speedy journey, and then peace. Until we meet again...