Did you miss me?

Well, we've completed our traditional holiday sweep through the relatives, leaving in our wake sobbing grandmothers who are now, even as we speak, pawing through classified ads to find some shred of hope that will bring us home to live nearby. (Rita actually asked me over the phone if I thought Eric would be interested in being a museum curator. "They have college degrees to become those, you know," I told her.) Sam weathered the voyage with much greater aplomb than I might have predicted, sleeping through most of the car trip and remaining content through the rest of it - so long as I was willing to keep him thoroughly entertained.

Christmas, on the other hand, knocked him for a loop. He didn't know what to make of all the strangers, all the noise, and all the activity, especially that generated by his cousin Hailey. Halfway through the Christmas Eve festivities, he got fed up with having candy canes poked at his face ("Aw, look! She wants to share!") and had a complete meltdown. That was the way of the rest of the trip; whenever things began to get too stimulating, Sam freaked. I felt awful for him, so I began working to give him breaks before things reached that point; every two hours or so, or every time he started to rub at his eyes, became naptime, and he and I would retreat to a quiet bedroom for sleep or quiet cuddling. That seemed to help him keep control.

Now we're home, and he seems vaguely confused but happy to be in familiar surroundings. He had a difficult time falling asleep last night, as he kept staring around the room and chuckling to some piece of odd baby humor. He's also learned many a new skill over the past two weeks, and he's carried them into his new daily activities; I just had to stop typing for a few minutes to pull him out from under my chair, where he'd scooted to play. Now he's pivoting in circles about the living room floor, singing to himself. No longer a stationary baby, our little boy.

I'm also wondering how many times and how consistently his "Mah-meeee!" must be used before I can consider it a word.

Home again, home again,
Jiggety-jig!

It was a different kind of vacation, though. This is the first time that I've ever actually looked forward to the return to home and normalcy, rather than dreading the return to normal working life. Eric, too, said that he was looking forward to going back to his job. Perhaps it was a combination of feeling too idle for too long and of no longer being the pampered children which we were privileged to become on vacations - until now. Now we were merely the parents of the Most Loved Grandson in the World; not a bad position to hold, but with fewer rights and honors than before.

Now we're home, and we're in charge of our own schedule once more. With the self-imposed compulsions entailed with that duty comes a certain freedom that we can now appreciate more than ever. The adjustment was still difficult; I almost completely forgot about making dinner (Lemon Herbed Chicken in the crockpot, in case you were curious, with Portuguese white bread).

I'm planning to take down the tree and Christmas decorations tonight. I feel a need to return life to its simplest form. Not only that, but the space is needed; I need to rearrange things to make room for some of Sam's bulkier presents. The wagon that Eric's parents got him will be a nice toybox once we figure out exactly where it can be placed. It and several other things wouldn't even fit into our car for the return trip, so they're being shipped.

As far as Eric and me, things seem slightly better. We haven't fought in a while, and (as far as I know) there's no lingering resentment over anything waiting to explode in our faces.

Eric is starting to see the need for possible medical intervention over his anxiety, though. It hit home for him when he asked his brother whether a particular spot on his throat felt abnormally, and possibly cancerously, hard, and his brother responded that the spot in question was actually a bone. Well, we all can't be doctors. Still, Eric felt slightly foolish at that and realized that his worries were beginning to get out of hand. I'm just happy that his state of mind may take an upward swing in the near future.

Well-timed, too. Our finances, like everybody else's were hit hard by the holidays, so belts are going to be tightening and stress levels rising around here even without chemicals getting involved. Every little bit helps. Thank God for Sam; his smile alone is an effective antidepressant, if only for the moment.