Finally.
After three months of traveling, visiting family, changing time zones, and coming and going, I'm finally home. Alone. In my own bed. On my own schedule, no flights to catch or people to meet. Passports are safely stowed away until next time. Only one language to speak, and no need for Google translate or crappy sign language communication just because I'm too lazy to become fluent in a second language. I can safely drink water from the tap and mosquitos are again simply a nuisance.
At home, the duplos and Legos are back in their big crate in the basement, instead of threatening to exact excruciating pain to my instep if I dare to walk around barefoot. High chair and pack n play are put away upstairs, kid-friendly dishes and sippee cups and bibs and plastic spoons are on their appointed shelves. The living room and basement are no longer a play zone, an obstacle course, or a tripping hazard. No more diaper-filled wastebaskets in every room in the house, or daily loads of laundry requiring pretreatment of mysterious food stains.The refrigerator is empty of half-eaten bananas, toddler leftovers, and freshly made veggie-fruit juices, and the giant box of goldfish crackers is empty. 
My camera is back in its case on the hook by the door, and random phone charging cords aren't hanging empty from every electrical outlet in the house. There are only two pair of shoes by the front door. I can go to the bathroom without locking the door, eat an entire meal without interruption , and sit in my own chair. No more worries about dogs getting out or cats getting in. Alex can cook a meal without concern of sixteen variations of dietary restrictions or picky eaters, and I am not on high alert for coaster-less, sweaty drinks threatening to leave watermarks on the tabletops. I can watch any show I want, skip right past Daniel tiger and Dinosaur Train, and get on the Internet without being slowed down or kicked off due to power surges, no service, or too many users.
No more urgent calls for Grandma or Nana or Pappy or Grandpa or Mom, and no more worries of little ones hurtling to their death off stairs or rock walls. No more reading the same board book 12 times nonstop, or tickling, or card games or hearing "I'm bored" or being the jungle mom in a make believe forest. No more tears or tantrums or car seats.
No more hugs or kisses or "you're the best Nana" proclamations, or high-pitched squeals and giggles, or shy smiles or arms reaching up to be held. The house is quiet. My life is quiet again.I look at the photos and relive the glorious, breathless, back-achy, sleep-deprived madness of the past three months.
I'd do it all again in a heartbeat
And I can hardly wait till December when its a madhouse again.
I'll clean in January
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