At last: rest

It's been a crazy week or two. First I was going nuts trying to finish and file a big brief that, for reasons that drove me crazy, came down to the wire. Then I was getting for my trip to Atlanta and New Hampshire, and getting the house ready for Jason's brother's visit (not that it took much, but I wanted to get some new bedding and rearrange a few things so he'd be comfortable). Then I took the red-eye on Friday night to Atlanta, got off the plane, went shopping with Kathleen, met a friend for lunch, took a brief nap, went to a baby shower that Michele hosted for me, which led right into a party. The next morning, I got up early to meet Michelle at the Y to go for a swim, then spent the rest of the day first at a wedding shower for Michelle, then at a massive party that Kathleen and Rich hosted for Addie and Lula that included a water slide, a moon bounce, tie-dying, face painting, and about a million little monkeys under the age of 6. The party started at 3 and ended at about 9. We went through 40 veggie corn-dogs, countless spinach pies and mini-pizzas, a huge bowl of crab dip, bottles of wine, bottles of water, juice boxes, and God knows what else. That night, Lula was having a really rough time settling down and it was freaking Addie out, so at about midnight I brought Addie into my bed to sleep with me. I had to be up early to get to the airport to make my 9:30 am flight, but like an idiot, I left my driver's license at Kathleen's house. I discovered the error early -- I only lost about 15 minutes -- but the 15 minutes was enough to make me miss my flight to Manchester because the fucking security line was an hour and a half long. I got to the gate about 2 minutes after they closed the flight, having run all the way down the terminal because of course my gate was as far away from the terminal entrance as it possible could have been. I see the ladies closing the door as I'm sprinting up there with my huge belly heaving, and I yell "NOOOOOOOOO!!!!" They look at me blankly and say, "sorry, flight's closed." At which point I burst into tears and stood in the middle of the gate area sobbing like a baby, with mascara running down my face. The next flight to Manchester wasn't for another 5 1/2 hours, so I had to sit there and wait. I was so angry and stressed and tired that it took about 45 minutes for me to calm down, so I sat there crying and doing that "huh-huh-huh" breathing thing that little kids do when they can't calm down, all the while trying to read my Harry Potter book. Finally I calmed down, got a new boarding pass for the next flight, and read my book. I finished it, too. When I got off the plane in Manchester, I took one look at my mother and Emma, who were meeting me at the airport, and promptly started to cry again. Oy.

But we got to the beach house and I got some food in my belly and finally, finally got a decent night's sleep, plus a 3 hour nap about an hour after I got up, so for the first time in I don't know how long, I feel rested. And I can reflect a little bit on my trip.

It was so wonderful to see all of my Atlanta friends and their children. It was a little bit overwhelming to have the activities packed in one after the other for a solid 36 hours, but I got a good love fix in. I miss those people so much.

But what really amazed me was how much I miss Jason. Of course I love my husband, but I will only be gone a week, so I shouldn't be such a sap. But sitting in the airport terminal, my first thought wasn't, "I want my mother," which is whom I normally yearn for when I'm stressed and tired. It was, "I want my husband." I just wanted him to come and give me a big hug and let me sleep on his shoulder. Thinking about it on the plane made me weepy all over again. He's a keeper, he is. The baby is kicking like crazy these days and all I can think about is how excited Jason and I both are to meet this little monkey and be good parents to him and teach him how to surf and read him stories and make him giggle by blowing on his belly. I can't wait.