We're home and I'm practically overjoyed at the promise of falling back into our normal daily routine. One that doesn't include constantly redirecting my child from the rusty nail heads poking through the framework of the porch for the 4,785th time. Or making sure that he doesn't run headlong into one of three glass-top tables in the house while attempting to navigate The Bungalow's
tiny cozy three rooms of living space at 110mph. A routine that certainly doesn't include desperately trying to get him to fall asleep in a pack and play that is clearly not meant to sleep a toddler of his size.
Vacation? I don't even know what that word means anymore. And believe me, I practically wanted to run up to every skinny, responsibility-free teen and early twenty-something girl laying out on the beach without a care in the world and say, "See? See? This is what happens when you have a baby! There is no reading on the beach. Or laying on your stomach to even out your tan! This is it! So enjoy it now. Or at least marry rich so you can afford to bring along a Beach Nanny."
It was fun. We truly did have a blast. C absolutely loves the beach. And when I say "loves," I mean.. he luuuurves it.
I'm exhausted. I'm more tired now than I was when we left for the beach. How about I let just a few of these pictures do the talking?
Happy Wednesday, Loyals!
Oh, did I mention I met a blog friend while at the beach?
Oh, because I did.
And she's awesome.
I'll tell you all about it on Friday!