It’s Thursday, a rainy, humid day here in VA. Just one short week ago, I was Vegas bound. I landed, immediately embraced by high temps and a shining sun.
Time is moving way to fast for me. My trip to Vegas hardly feels like it happened it all! My sorority sisters and I spent several days out in Nevada, catching up and kicking back. There were casinos, there were clubs, there were shows. There was drinking and gambling and laughing and lounging. I’m not going to spill all the gory detailsYou know what they say, “What happens in Vegas. . .” I’ll let you use your imagination.
|view from the hotel. really amazing.|
|poolside. *le sigh*|
It was a much needed break. I think all of us were in much need of a respite from the day to day goings on that occupy our lives.
And now, here I am, back in the thick of things. Seriously, there is no rest for the weary. My plane landed on Monday evening and I came home to happy kids, my tired parents, and a mountain of laundry that my mom had attempted to scale. I admire her effort, but as well know, laundry is a Herculean task. Tuesday was going to be the girls’ second day of school with me at the helm of drop off and pick up. Yes, I missed the first day of school as I was cavorting out in Nevada — truth be told, I was making my way home all day Monday. . .all.daggone.day.
While I didn’t snap the first day of school photo, it did get taken and for that I’m grateful.
|a 3rd grader and a kindergartener? already?|
The Hubs parting words to me on Tuesday morning were, “Try to ease into things.” Yeah, have you met me? Have you met my kids? So much for that. Tuesday morning after drop off found me back in the gym, working off all the imbing from the previous four days. V and I came home, had lunch, wrangled the laundry into something manageable. I stripped beds and changed sheets. I prepped dinner and made lunches for the following day. I got us together and on time for after school pick up. Just as Mo and Co got buckled into their seats, I got a call from my cousin P who was in town for work. I haven’t seen P in five years, at least. She’s never met the girls, so it’s probably more like 10 years. Could I get together with her now? Of course! We made a pit stop at the house before heading downtown to scoop P up from her hotel. En route, Co says that her chest was hurting her when she took a deep breath. I asked her when did that start?
“Just now,” she says. So, I told her not to take breaths and just breathe normally. She shrugged and we were on our way. We get P and decide to head over to Carytown to walk around a bit. As we’re driving, Co gets progressively worse. In a matter of minutes, she’s doubled over in the back seat, globes of tears burbling out of her eyes. By the time we find a parking space, I’m visibly calm, but inwardly freaking out. I lift her shirt, palpate her chest, finding nothing. Her crying is not helping as she sucking in big gulps of air. I’m not seeing anything but my sweet girl in pain and tears. I get back in the car, turn to P and say, “I gotta take you back to the hotel.”
Which of course is in the opposite direction of the doctor’s office. I’m on the phone with the doc, navigating back to school traffic around VCU’s campus, trying to keep Co calm and keeping one eye on the gas gauge which is winking at me as it dwindles down towads empty. When we get within eyesight of the hotel, I basically slow down enough for kick P out (sorry, P) and hightail it back towards our part of town and the doc. By the time we arrive, my bloodpressure is high enough to cause my hair to straighten. Co is calmer, though she’s keeping one hand on her chest as though to press the discomfort away and out of sight. She’s taken back right away, with Mo and Vivi on her heels. I retell the situation to the doc, who then examines Co. Suffice it to say, your girl had a bad case of gas.
The relief I felt was nothing short of miracle. The treatment prescribed? Soda to help her burp. Co picked up on that and was all smiles. By the time I had gathered our stuff, the nurses were plying the girls with lollypops and stickers, smiles all around. The girls were bickering as I checked out and full of yelling at one another as they buckled themselves in the car. Crisis averted, everything back to normal. I looked at my watch.
I had been back home for less than 24 hours.
My phone pinged an incoming text message from one of my girls who went to Vegas with me: “All I have to say is today felt like this past weekend never happened.” Looks like I’m not the only one who had a rough re-entry.
So here it is, a few days later. I’m finding my groove (coffee is helping considerably). The laundry is almost done. V is napping while I’m writing. I’m winning more now that I did in Vegas.