We made it back home just before 4 in the afternoon. I hopped out of the suburban in the driveway (even before Scott could pull into the garage), and ran over to our neighbor's to get Owen. I was so happy to see him. He wasn't so happy to see me, though. I was prepared for that. When we went to Florida for 5 days, he forgot me and wanted my mom instead. So I knew that after 8 days, he was going to be pretty attached to Anne. She handed him to me, and he cried and reached back for her. It was pretty tough on me, but I think it was tougher on Anne. I don't think she wanted to give him back. She had e-mailed me updates throughout the week, saying what a good baby he was and how much they enjoyed him. I handed him back to her and he hugged her happily while we talked. When it was time to go, I took him back, and he cried the whole way home.
Once we got home, and things started to look familiar again, Owen was just fine. He was most excited to see his crib again (he'd slept in a port-a-crib during the week). Scott put him in it, and he jumped and laughed and crawled around in it as happy as he could be. After we got things carried in from the car, and things calmed down a bit, we took our thank you souvenirs over to Anne, Dan, Brynne, and Liam. They again told us how much they had enjoyed having Owen be a part of their family that week. And I realized there was no way to thank them enough for their generosity in taking care of him for us.
And then life started again.
I once again had a baby to care for. I had a house that was left in chaos from Christmas. We had opened presents, then packed and left so quickly, so there was still wrapping paper and boxes everywhere. I had all the kids' new toys to find a place for. I had all the unpacking and laundry to do from our trip. And I was doing it all on 4 hours of sleep. The worst part of vacation is having to come home.
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