East, West, hame's best

Oh my goodness, did I miss those children. Sometimes I truly hate this conference I must attend every year. This year was a big step forward since I did not have to set an alarm to pump or to call Lord Honey to make sure he got up to feed the baby, so sleeping through the night, to the degree possible in a hotel bed, was awesome. We had a lovely afternoon in Zion national park, with a gentle easy hike that only mildly left my calves in shock from moving my fat butt very far, and the sun was shining, the birds were singing, the squirrels were munching, the wild turkeys fanned their tails, and nothing' but blue skies were smiling at me.



But those kids! My arms ached to hold them. I always thought muscle memory was about your own muscles but my muscles and cuddly bits were missing my girls. By the time I got to my car at the airport my palms were fairly itching to get home and squeeze a baby leg. I felt a physical craving for slobbery kisses and stinky bottoms. However, Hannah had other plans. For a full two hours she was mad at me, demanding to be held and then wanting to go straight out of my arms and into her dad's so she could turn her stinkeye gaze at me and suck purposefully on her binky when I asked for a kiss. At one point I was holding her and talking to her dad, and I said I thought she was still mad at me even though I was now allowed to hold her, and she glared at me and hit me three times without blinking. Each blow was benign, and not designed to hurt necessarily, but I got the message. I am pretty sure we have no cognitive deficits to worry about. Control issues, maybe.