I’m pretty depressed at the moment as my hubby packs up the mini-van to prepare to drive home tomorrow morning. That’s 24 hours in the car at best, 36 at worst.

It all depends on Zack. He’s good during the naps and then maybe an hour-and-a-half after that. Then there is just angry yelling. Not crying. Just yelling. My husband can sleep through the yelling, I can not. I’d rather be driving than being the poor sucker trying to make peek-a-boo fun in the 26th hour.

I suppose there are worse things in life . . . Having to unpack and do laundry when we get home. That could be worse. Getting back on the scale at the gym after eating whatever I want and getting virtually no exercise. That could be worse. Going back to the hot humid summer of East Texas where the air is simply unfit for breathing. That could be worse.

 Ah, but as I tell my daughter, we’ll just be extremely grateful that we got to come at all. We’ll remember the aquarium, natural history museum, Temple Square, the water symphony at the outdoor mall, the professional soccer game and all the great family time we got all the way home.

I’ve been a blog slacker this week, but I’ll get back on track by Tuesdayish.

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