Remember when I told you about my BFF expecting? Well sweet Baby made her appearance July 14 so my kids and I made the 1619.75 mile trip to fuss over the wee lass. Since we drove all that way, we decided to spend a few weeks at my parent’s house on the Gulf coast. What fun! A week into our trip, the Hubby joined us and we had ourselves a nice little vacation. We relaxed on the beach, swam in the Gulf of Mexico, went to a Pirate Festival, cruised the Gulf with some pirates, ate lots of seafood, spent hours lounging in my parent’s pool, visited an aquarium, pet a stingray, the boys went deep-sea fishing while the girls spent their money and we dreamed of moving out there. It was Heaven!
By the time our trip was over, I was very ready to be home. I missed my house. I missed being busy. I missed my dogs. I missed my bed. I missed my friends. And the first 2 or 3 days I was thrilled to be home. Then reality hit. Suitcases had to be unpacked. Laundry had to be done. Floors had to be mopped. Kids had to be schooled. Groceries had to be bought. Dinner had to be cooked. Dishes had to be washed. Toilets had to be scrubbed. And the list goes on. Why, oh why was I so ready to come home? Why can’t we live in Paradise? Instead, we live here: