Whew

They're baaa-aaack.

(Insert Hallelujah chorus.)

At the airport there were tears from S, wailing from K about the lotion she had to toss at security because it was twice the allowed size (though it's not so much about the lotion as, well, the mostly unspoken facts of her life). E reclaimed Q as "hers" and G wandered around blankly for a few minutes after we got home saying, "I can't believe I'm home." (Good? Bad? Only time will tell.)

So now that my kidlets are back, safe and more or less sound (I'm hearing about the scary movies, etc., as usual, and will for a few weeks until the nightmares and memories fade), my feet are back on terra firma, my brain's been reinstalled. I am also recovering from the chestiest, phlegmiest bug I've had in awhile and I feel more human, so I'll be back to post about last week's round of Q appointments. Perhaps I'll write a dissertation on discouragement, hope renewed, or something like that. Or maybe I'll just sleep. (Note the hints of late night unreasonable optimism? It's a side effect of motherhood. All things seem possible when they're tucked silently, motionless-ly, detritis-less-ly in. One's brain positively reels with all the range of possibility. Can you think why I refer to the mood as unreasonable optimism? Perhaps because, were I less tired or sick, the mood would be recognizable as something more like mania? Hmmm.)

Anyway, who cares. They're home.

Haaaaallelujah, haaaaallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallay-hay-luJAH!!

Handel rocks.