Home is where the barf is

Sister and I are home from Savannah now after a lovely time spent walking the historic district together, eating really fantastic Vietnamese food, and enjoying ghost stories on a nighttime horse-drawn carriage tour. We had the best time in each other's company that we've had in I can't remember how long, nearly completely free of complaining and temper tantrums on her part and bitchy mama-ness on mine. Until we got to the airport, that is. Then Sister began to decline rapidly, not handling the transition back to regular life very well. While she'd managed being on her feet for seven hours straight with only a lunch break walking around in Savannah, standing in line for 10 minutes for a burrito in the Atlanta airport was just more than she wanted to do. At least I had some good sleep behind me so that I could handle it well--10-1/2 hours the first night and 9 hours the second night. Just that alone would've made it totally worth it for me.

We got home yesterday to a house that wasn't nearly as trashed as I'd anticipated it would be with Husband and Bean on their own for a few days. Clearly Husband had made an effort to tidy before I got home, which I appreciated a lot. But the transition back home wasn't all smooth. Bean woke up feverish in the middle of the night last night to vomit up her skimpy dinner. She's still feverish today, though thankfully the barf hasn't made a reappearance. She's definitely feeling pretty bad, though, and doesn't want to do anything more right now than curl up under a blanket next to me on the sofa to watch recorded episodes of Sesame Street. She's eaten only 2 slices of watermelon and a grape popsicle today, and as far as I'm concerned she can eat nothing but watermelon and popsicles today if she wants. Mild, slightly sweet stuff that will keep her hydrated and cool and that contain some calories at least. My poor girl.

So I'm in for a quiet day today, catching up on emails and trying to plan the meeting I'm holding for the parents of Sister's Girl Scout troop on Wednesday. (Why am I already not surprised that fully half of the parents haven't responded to the email I sent out early last week?)

Blessed return to cozy bed, gas stove, and laundry facilities

Two showers, 6 loads of laundry, 9-1/2 hours of sleep, and 2 cups of hot tea post-camping have got me feeling like a human being again. It's a good thing our troop hasn't caught on to the fact that primitive camping trips are something many other troops plan and go on. I would probably draw the line if I had to take 12 girls out into the woods with no cots or toilets or ready-made fire pits like we had on this particular trip.

Actually, the worst part of the trip was not the absence of my usual creature comforts. The worst part was that I learned a bit more about some of our girls. I learned that one of them is very rude to grown-ups and was apparently never taught to say please or to phrase any of her needs as a request rather than a flat demand. I learned that one of them is heading for a high-maintenance adulthood, if her insistence that she couldn't do anything and needed it done for her is any indication. I learned that a couple of them very readily gang up on another if the opportunity presents itself. I learned that one of them really does have a violently short fuse, as Sister has told me before.

About myself, I learned that I should skip high-stress trips if I'm sick and way behind on my sleep. I can only hope that poor Sister won't have to deal with comments about how mean her mama is. I tried my best not to embarrass her but it was hard. Also, my realization many years ago that I should steer clear of any career involving dealing with people because I don't actually like being around many people may hold true for being a Girl Scout leader. 'Cause, you know, kids are just people and not some special wonderful species all their own.

I was never a Girl Scout

Bean's down for her nap now, and I should be doing all sorts of things other than sitting in front of the computer. I should be outside planting the few remaining plants destined for the bog garden still languishing in their pots. (The weather has appropriately cooled off again, no longer 92 frigging degrees like it was earlier in the week.) I should be scrubbing scummy toilets. I should be packing for the Girl Scout camping trip I'm taking Sister's troop on tomorrow.

But what I should really be doing is trying to convince myself that taking 12 girls aged 8-10 camping will be fun and inspiring and not too rainy or buggy or sleepless or just generally too much of a pain in the ass for this homebody mama. I'm not there yet.