I’ve been looking forward to this weekend for weeks. Maybe even months. And now it’s over, even though it feel like it never really got started. My family has come and, unfortunately, gone. I have no idea where the time went.

When we’re younger we have endless days with our families. In fact, it seems as if they will never end. We will never graduate high school and get to leave for the freedom of the dorms. We will never graduate college and be able to really make all our own decisions. And then it’s finally time for a little family separation. I have had over seven years of this, and I was happy to go home twice a year and host my family once or twice a year. And then I had a baby. Now I can’t get enough time with my family.

We did so much this trip, it doesn’t seem like it should have gone by in the blink of an eye. We spent Friday in Maine, having lunch in Kennebunkport and shopping the outlet malls in Kittery. There was a walk on the beach Friday night with Justin and looking at all the stars we don’t get to see from Arlington. Saturday involved a 3.25-mile run, a nap with Robbie, a trip into Newburyport, a little lobster macaroni and cheese, and a terribly sad football game. Sunday was breakfast at Mad Martha’s, the craft fair at Harvard, a walk to the Charles with my brother, and a little time to start picking up the house.

And the airport run. It was finally official that everyone had left and the weekend was over when I dropped my little brother off at the airport. I’d held it together pretty well when I said goodbye to the rest of the family, maybe because I knew I will see them at Thanksgiving. But I won’t see Hunter until Christmas. He kept assuring me it was only two months, but I happen to know that it’s actually two months and fifteen days.

I didn’t realize the toll this weekend had taken on Robbie until I got home from picking up the dog at PetSmart (Did I mention that his grooming appointment was accidentally cancelled, which I didn’t realize until I called to check on his progress at 3:15? Not to worry… He’s clean and gorgeous!). I found Robbie passed out in his recliner in a diaper and a Star Wars t-shirt. I’m sure Justin was so proud.

As Hilary reminded me, there’s only 46 days until Thanksgiving. Here’s hoping we can make it.

One of the best parts of family time is my stepdad, Tom. You have to listen carefully because you never know quite what will come out of his mouth. We’ve been waiting all weekend for the perfect quote, and it came tonight while watching the miserable first half of the Kentucky game (it looks more like the Auburn game, but we’ll remain painfully optimistic until the clock runs out).

The announcers were commenting on how fast an Auburn player was, regaling the viewing audience with the tale of how this particular player bet some friends that he could catch a squirrel and then did. Tom, fed up with the game about five minutes into the first quarter, was not amused with the story. From the love seat, we heard, ‎”If you caught a squirrel in your hands, your hands would be chewed off by now. That’s a lie story.” This was immediately posted to my sister’s Facebook status and responded to with a picture of Matt holding a squirrel by the tale. His caption? “I guess I’m the exception.” Apparently, it is possible to catch a squirrel with your bare hands.

The most important part of this is that we now have a new catch phrase: lie story. When I think Justin may not be telling me the truth about something, I ask if he is being a “truth teller”. I think we’re going to have to change that. I’ll now be asking him (and Robbie, when he’s old enough) if they are telling me lie stories. I’m pretty sure it will be a hit.

Apparently I posted too early last night… The real fun happened when I went in the bedroom Robbie, Justin, and I are sharing. Something smelled amiss, so I went immediatey to Robbie. Upon inspection of the still-sleeping child, I discovered that he, the blanket, the sheet, and the mattress were covered in vomit. Milk, penne pasta, bread, and cheese puffs. And Robbie was still dead asleep.

We got him up. I immediately put the baby in the tub while Mom started cleaning the mattress. Robbie never cried; he just looked confused. After all, he had already taken a bath and was peacefully sleeping. He recovered nicely, though, and sat on the couch with us while his mattress dried. I’m a little concerned about this; I think he finally has proof that we do indeed do fun and amazing things after he goes to sleep…

After his bed was reassembled, it was time for sleep. For both of us. Robbie was fine while I had the lights on, but, as soon as I turned them off and plunged the room into darkness, he flipped out. Since everyone can hear everything in this house, I brought him into bed with me. I figured the best approach was to pretend to be asleep, but this led to having my nose picked… I opened my eyes to find Robbie’s face inches from mine, a huge smile on his face.

After a few minutes, Robbie put his hand in mine (I was using it to block entry to my nose), laid his head between my neck and shoulder, and cuddled up close. It was the most perfect cuddle moment of my life. And it lasted for two hours, until I woke up with my arm half asleep and a full bladder.

This was the first time Robbie has ever voluntarily cuddled with me. I’m really hoping he’s going into this phase. I could get used to hugs and hand-holding.

It’s finally here! That’s right, my four-day weekend. I am back in the world of personal days, and it feels fabulous. It was almost torture waiting for the clock to hit 3:07 this afternoon…

My family came up for our yearly pilgrimmage to Plum Island and, for the fist time since we move here, I am able to spend the Friday of the trip with them. I could feel myself start o relax as I drove away from Lawrence. By the time I crossed the bridge onto Plum Island, the rest of the world was far from my mind. Until I walked into the house.

There is a small loft area that overlooks the living room that has a slatted railing and a slanted roof. It’s the perfect play area for someone pushing 33 inches. Alledgedly, Robbie had been happily playing up there for an hour. I, however, have seen no proof of that.

As soon as I walked through the door, I heard him screaming. He seems to be getting a little too good at that. We went upstairs to get him, and he didn’t want to come out. But he continued screaming… I’m actually not too sure what to do about the screaming. I honestly can’t tell if he’s in some sort of pain from teething or growing or if he’s just being a brat.

We had the problem partially solved when I opened a bottle of water for him to drink. He nearly downed the whole thing. And at dinner, he practiced tossing penne pasta in the air with a fork. He’s a very adept food handler. And to think the server looked at me like I was crazy when I asked for the pasta without and sauce or butter. Could you imagine the disaster that would have been?

The childhood classic saved the day at the Manna house tonight. Not the written version. We had an emergency and had to rely on the television series. Yes, it was that bad.

I spent the night getting ready for my family’s arrival while Justin crammed for an exam tomorrow night. It should have been easy, leaving me with enough time to catch up on Private Practice and watch Survivor as it aired. Except it wasn’t. At all.

Robbie woke up around 8:00 and stood in his crib quietly until he saw me through the crack in my bedroom door; I was putting away laundry and hoping Robbie wouldn’t see me. He made eyes at me for a little while, giving me that sleepy smile of his that melts my heart. He even went so far as to lay his head on his arms.

And then all hell broke loose. For forty-five minutes. I have no idea what happened, but it was epic. It started with just regular crying. I finished what I was doing, hoping he would eventually decide to go to sleep. When he didn’t, I went down to get a bottle. By the time I got back, Robbie was out of control: whole body screaming. I tried to hold him on my lap and give him the milk, but he kicked his way to the ground, where he continued his screaming. Justin eventually came in and got the same result.

We thought maybe a change of scenery would help, so we took Robbie to our room. He refused to let any of us touch him, including Grover, who put herself right in the mix. We eventually took his pajamas off, but that did no good. A few times he threw himself at me and held on with a crazed madness I’ve never seen before. Then, as quickly as he’d thrown himself at me, he threw himself off, refusing to be touched.

So we did the only thing I could think of: we put on The Berenstein Bears. It took a few minutes for Robbie to notice it was on. It must have been my fabulous singing that got his attention (yes, I know the words to the theme song). I have no idea what he finds so intriguing. But thank God there’s something.

I still have no idea what happened with Robbie tonight. He wasn’t hungry or wet or in pain. Just very tired. And wicked upset. Oh, and did I mention that he’s still awake and it’s 10:40? I guess he’s staying awake to see Nona, Pops, and Aunt Hil, who should be walking through the door any minute.

I’d like to tell you that today was a better day, but I try to only be brutally honest with you. In the interest of full disclosure, let me assure you that it was not good. Well, except for the part where Justin came home and we actually got to spend some time together. That part was good.

We started the day with a 12:20 wake-up call from young Robert, complete with upper-register screaming. I changed his diaper and dutifully gave him a bottle of milk. I know, I know… It’ll cause cavities and all sorts of other horrible things. But, at 12:20 in the morning, I don’t really care. A bottle of water just isn’t going to cut it. Even the milk barely cut it. He started screaming as soon as it was finished. But, being the good mother that I am, I let him cry it out. He’d been changed, cuddled, and fed. His nose was wiped and the nightlight was left on. Eventually he went to sleep. I’m sure he’s a better child for it. Right?

My good fortune continued at Lawrence International High School this morning. Please note the dripping sarcasm… A student who had, bless her heart, only joined my class last Friday came up to me at my desk and whispered the most horrible words anyone could ever hear: “Miss, your pants are ripped. We can see your panties.” Now, the first offense was not what you would think; it was the use of the word panties. Just makes my skin crawl.

I was absolutely horrified. How do you not realize your butt is on display for the entire population of your school? And, to make it worse, I had no idea how long my pants, my new Eddie Bauer pants, had been deceiving me. Fortunately, I had my gym clothes with me at work, since I go straight to the gym after work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. At the last minute, I grabbed a sweatshirt, which conveniently fit around my waist for the remainder of the period. You must be dying to know what I did for the rest of the day. I did the only thing I could do; I wore my black running pants. With my black sweater. And black beaded shoes. It was a hot mess.

Just to make sure you have the full picture, I checked out the rip on the pants. It went from about a third of the way up the back all the way to the front. The seam completely split. And, yes, the pants fit. I’ll be making a special trip to Eddie Bauer to get a new pair. And I’ll probably reinforce the seam. Or at least make sure I have a spare pair of pants in my drawer whenever I wear them…

Not much went right today. Not much at all. Robbie and I were late heading out of the house today, and it was pouring. So much for taking the time to do my hair and make-up. I managed to make it to work on time, without the help of my rear windshield wiper.

After work, I picked up Robbie and his best buddy Pete. Before going into daycare, I picked up all the items in the back of the car. Having just gotten the car detailed, I wanted to keep in clean. I stumble backwards, tripped over the cement, and tore my right thumbnail off on the door handle.

And then there was the ride home. They boys both sat in the back, glassy-eyed. We had to go to the car wash to get the rear windshield wiper repaired. When I got there, CJ, the manager, told me he wouldn’t be able to get the part and asked if I could come back. Are you kidding me? I took an hour out of my day to get this fixed, with two children in the back of the car, and it’s still broken? And it’s supposed to rain for the next two days? Great.

Robbie and I got home just in time for him to eat dinner, take a fast bath (poop free!), and head to bed. I was so frustrated with everything that I needed some exercise, but I’d had to cancel my run. Robbie is sick with a new cold and it’s raw and rainy out. I didn’t think that would be a good mix. So, after I put Robbie down, I went out to plant eleven mums. I have to have the house looking fabulous for the family’s visit Wednesday.

It took about an hour for me to get everything in the ground, and it looks much better. At least what I could tell from the dark. I came back in, ready to cook dinner. Except there was a screaming child upstairs. I felt horrible. He’d been quiet before I left, so I just assumed he’d fallen asleep. I have no idea how long he’d been crying, but the tear and snot factor was pretty high. I rocked him with a bottle of milk, and he’s still asleep right now.

I’m so exhausted from two bad nights’ sleep that it’s off to an early bed for me. Hopefully my child and the child next door will sleep through the night. I just need one night of not waking up to a screaming child…

…Aren’t for babies. At least the return leg. Robbie and I went up to Vermont with two friends this morning and met up with two other friends for lunch at Simon Pearce. He did so well on the way up there. He kept himself entertained during the hour wait for our table. He was even pleasant during lunch, once he got his grilled cheese. I cruelly woke him up after driving from lunch to Woodstock to shop and explore. And later forced him to play while we enjoyed dessert before driving home.

The poor baby was too tired to sleep. He cried nearly half the way home, so uncomfortable in his car seat. He didn’t want milk or anything to do with my friend Jane, who tried to soothe him. He fell asleep after about twenty minutes of crying, and we enjoyed the quiet snoring for almost an hour. All of a sudden, he woke with a start, panicked. There was nowhere to pull over in mid-New Hampshire, so we had to keep going.

I finally managed to pull over. There were no diaper problems. Just a sweaty baby who could not be consoled. He screamed for at least another thirty minutes, sometimes going up an octave in desperation. Jane finally got him calmed, something I am not good at when Robbie gets panicked. And it calmed me down, too. I’m still noticing that my jaw is tense from clenching it during all of the screaming.

It was a wonderful feeling, though, to pull in and get a sleeping boy out of the car. There’s nothing quite like they way they cling to you in their sleepy state. Robbie smiled all the way upstairs and drowsily laughed as I changed his diaper. I love those moments. Just not the desperate screams that get him there.

I didn’t believe in pregnancy brain until I left my purse on the table of a crowded restaurant and walked out. I wasn’t totally convinced when I missed my exit twice on one trip home from the airport with my sister. I knew it was true when I called the office looking for a student I was sure was skipping only to find out that he had been in my class the entire time.

I naively hoped that it would fade after Robbie was born, but, no. There was just the onset of mommy brain, which is worse than pregnancy brain because there are no hormones to blame. And I can’t blame sleepless nights. It’s just pure stupidity from giving so many things little bits of my attention.

I fell victim to the perfect example of mommy brain today. Robbie and I had a busy morning, meeting with the contractor who’s been doing work around the house, hitting the gym, having lunch, and planting 120 crocus bulbs. I rushed through the last part of gardening, leaving twelve mums and countless tulip and daffodil bulbs unplanted, because we had a Red Sox game to get to. I’d been trying to get ahold of the friends Robbie and I were going with all afternoon and grew more and more panicked when they didn’t answer.

I grabbed everything I needed, including Robbie, and dashed out the door. I called a new friend from work, who was going to meet us, explaining that we would be a little late. In five minutes, Robbie and I were knocking on Micah and Allie’s door, decked out in our finest Red Sox attire. And Allie opened the door in a sweatshirt and yoga pants with a very confused look on her face. Because we didn’t have tickets for the game this afternoon. We had them for tomorrow. When Robbie and I will be in Vermont for the day.

Of course. Of course. Justin is out of town for five days, and I was so proud of myself for finding ways to keep busy the entire time he was gone. Except I didn’t. I felt so stupid; I nearly burst into tears in the middle of the living room. Luckily, Micah and Allie are amazing friends and salvaged our near disaster of an afternoon. They took me to drop of the car to get detailed, where the rear windshield wiper was torn off in the car wash… And we took a long walk and had dinner on a park bench.

Now I sit here, hoping that I do in fact have plans to go to Vermont tomorrow. Wouldn’t it be terrible to find out that I’d actually made those plans for today?

And I’ve survived another week. Made it all the way to 3:07 on Friday afternoon. Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love my job; I have some amazing students. But, God, Friday feels great. Especially when I know I have a clean house, a rainy night, and a husband who is out of town for the weekend. All I wanted was to get home and enjoy the quiet. And here I sit, perfectly content as the rain pounds on the newly replaced roof.

I love having a Friday night with time to just breathe. We spend so much time trying to fit everything in, and last weekend was such a whirlwind. Justin hasn’t been out of town for an extended period since July. I’m excited to only have to clean up after myself and watch what I want and not have to talk after Robbie goes to bed.

Believe it or not, I’m very much an introvert. Teaching all day wears me out, especially now. I’m on my feet and working with kids more than I think I ever have. I love it, but I need time at the end of the day to recover. I think that surprises a lot of people, since I play the part of an extrovert very well. And on that introverted note, I’m going to sign off.

But just one more thing… A special hello to Jasmine and Cristina, students of mine who have apparently become devoted but disappointed readers. Only disappointed because they haven’t been mentioned. But the world should know that they are fabulous!