I am in the Salt Lake City airport waiting for my flight to Denver. Child-free until Tuesday morning.
I was half excited, half dreading this trip. The dread was mostly due to the packing. I really hate packing. Now that it's over, I'm pretty excited. I DID get pretty choked up in the car when Jeremy dropped me off.
My MIL (Grace calls her "Great Grandma" for whatever weird, toddler reason she has) was just here for a week, and she left this morning before the kids woke up. Grace is her new biggest fan. At breakfast, Grace looked up from her pancake and said, "Great Grandma?" rather plaintively.
Now I'M leaving for a week. I hope she doesn't lose her mind.
But, oh, I need a break. It's been two and a half years since I was away from them for more than a few hours. Well, a couple months ago, Jeremy kicked me out of the house to go have fun for a day and a half. But other than that, it's only been pieces of days here and there.
I feel weird.
I packed as light as I could. This means I will be wearing some bizarre outfits all week. Two pairs of pants, four shirts, and some really weird socks. I did all the laundry except the sock/towel load. So right now I'm wearing bright red socks with black horses all over them. These jeans look really weird with the one pair of shoes I brought. They're boot cut, but for some reason, with these shoes, they look like skinny jeans. Also, did I ever mention that I have gigantic feet? I do. Black clown shoes, red horse socks, skinny jeans. Awesome. I did have an awesome hair day to balance it out, but the hurricane-force wind today ruined all that. I now look like I went through a car wash in a convertible. My sister will have fun with this when she picks me up.