Aloha and mahalo and ohana

We went to Hawaii. Had a fantastic time and didn't want to come home.

We came home. I'm feeling the red eye. Very wiped out and trying not to think of my to-do list: make a large-scale auction happen and be awesome, learn stats for my test, catch up on bills, read all the magazines that came while I was gone, teach my kids responsibility, cheer for the Cardinals -- in thought only, because I don't care enough to actually watch it, unpack, clean the house, and buy a car. And call Diana, because I miss her. (I miss you, Diana!)

And paint my toenails. Can you believe the audacity I had to go to Hawaii without painted toenails? Yikes.

I'll post pictures of our trip soon. Again, it was really, really great. My dad came and was really, really great. He is fantastic with my kids, which is all a girl could hope for. (Thanks, Pops! We love you.) He told my kids not to brag about our trip because no one wants to hear about someone else's beachy vacation in to-die-for weather with yummy yummy food. So, in that vein, I will tell you about a not-so-great moment that happened on the plane this morning. 2:15 am North Shore time, 5:15 am Provo time. (And how I didn't get so much sleep.)

The plane is dark.
Everyone's asleep.
Norah throws up.
Cheez-its.
I think, like I always do while facing a vomit clean-up job, "This is the worst part of parenthood."
(I tend to face more than my fair share of vomit clean-up jobs.)
Steve is asleep and unreachable without causing a very big scene and waking up the neighbors.
Much better to let the neighbors sleep through the cleaning up of the vomit.
I was smart enough to have packed a change of Norah clothes in my carryon.
Yay me.
A flight attendant walks by.
A man.
I discreetly ask him for a plastic bag because I need to change my daughter's vomity clothes.
He very indiscreetly says, "YOU NEED AN AIR SICKNESS BAG?"
I try again for discreet.
"Just a plastic bag, please."
He offers disdainfully to bring some paper towels.
I am grateful and say yes, please.
He brings me three (3!) dinky paper towels.
One wet.
Two dry.
I'm on my own after that.
Lots of trips to the bathroom.
It is gross.
But I manage.
I do not put Norah back in stinky car seat after that.
I hold her.
She sleeps.
I eagerly wait for landing.
Two and a half hours to go.



I'm kind of depressed to be back in Utah.