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I spent the weekend snuggled up with this delectable fella. Don’t you just love how he camouflages right into the couch?

After an incredibly meaningful weekend with Sunny’s FGPs, I headed to BWI with expectations of being back on the Farm no later than 4pm.

Ha.

HA HA HA.

We boarded our flight on time, and then promptly sat on the plane, at our gate, for four hours.

And ya know, the Ashley pre-May 18, 2009 would have been frustrated and antsy and pissed off. But the Ashley post-May 18, 2009, well, she was positively delighted by all this forced reading time. And thanked the sweet baby Cheez-its that she was flying solo, without a cranky dependent. My heart went out to each of the parents on the plane who battled and pleaded with their littles ones during that four hours of wait.

And to those passengers who threw the stink eye and grumbled in annoyance at the screams of those children? To them I say, SHAME ON YOU! I have so little respect or patience for those people. You are a grown ass adult. Put on your head phones. Pull out a book. And suck it up! If you’re miserable, how do you think the toddlers are feeling? How do you think their stressed out, embarrassed, exhausted parent or guardian is feeling? There is absolutely no reason to make a parent feel worse when, I can promise you, they are already feeling terrible.

I felt beyond grateful that I was by myself, free to read and write and rest my eyes during that wait rather than fight a fitful Courtland who would have no doubt been shrieking and kicking and tantrumming in boredom and distress. And entertaining a busy, restless Sunny who would have been whiney and loud and demanding for that four hours.

Perspective, y’all.

I walked in the door to Cartwheel Farm at 8pm, in the middle bath time. I was overjoyed to see the girls and James splashing around that vibrant room of pink. I pulled Courtland out of the tub and snuggled her wet, slippery body to my chest. I plopped her on the floor and figured I’d let her air dry before dressing her in her PJs and diaper. While she helped me unpack, and by “helped me unpack,” I mean flung every article of clothing from my suitcase around our bedroom with gusto, I realized that I needed to text Sunny’s FGPs to let them know that I was finally home.

I looked up, after no more than 60 seconds of my head being buried in my phone, to the nauseating, familiar stench of poop, out of water (you know what I mean! The toilet water exists for many very good reasons, including odor control). It didn’t take me long to realize that Courtland had pooped the floor, stepped in it, and was now parading around our room with feces-coated toes.

Welcome home to Mama! And Happy Monday to all!