Vacation crash.

We're experiencing a bit of vacation crash. You know how after you eat a ton of sugary stuff, you go crazy, and then you kind of fizzle out? Sugar crash. We just got back from two glorious weeks of visiting family, snacking on yummy holiday treats and soaking in the feeling of home. But now we're back in our home for now, our home for all intents and purposes, and we've all been the teensiest grumpy about it. Vacation crash.

Last night I had quite a sorry fest for myself. I surveyed the laundry yet to be done and the living room covered in toys and crumbs. I groaned about another boring week that my poor, poor self would have to endure.

This morning, luckily, I woke with vibrant resolve: No whining in this house! Not from the kids and not from the mama! I promised myself that today, no matter what comes, I will wrap my hands around it and give it a hearty shake and watch goodness fall from it like fairy dust.

Obstacles have risen: there is a mysterious urine smell wafting from one side of the sofa; exactly one explosive poop incident; a case of mixed up juice cups that caused much wailing. En route to the grocery store, I spotted the driver behind me angrily yelling on her cell phone. She was pressing the poor device hard into her ear, as if the closer it was to herself the more clearly her rage would seep through it and ride the electronic waves to the recipient. It bummed me out a little.

I forgot something at the store, and remembered as I was walking back to the car. There was no fairy dust to be found. I buckled the kids into their seats and let the car warm up for a moment, deciding that the remedy for my sinking positivity was Switchfoot, nice and loud.

We cruised down the highway while the swell of guitars and bass and drums flooded our humble red van, and a glance in the rear view mirror revealed my boys wiggling and laughing at each other, dancing. They were dancing! ...Not thinking about the dirty look I shot them when they dared to step on the bread in the grocery cart. Or that dreaded naptime awaited them when we got home. They were dancing.

Those boys, they're onto something.