Pity Party: Please attend if (and only if) you're a glutton for punishment

We had a nice little mini-vacation in Galveston over the weekend. It was a really fun time, but in the words of a wise mom that I know, "taking a vacation with your kids means that you're doing the same shit that you do at home, just in a different place". So true. There are still naps to contend with, bedtimes, snacks, Daddies who continually snore through the 6:30 am wake up calls from infants (but who rarely snore through swift punches to the groin area at 6:30 am {Oopsie daisy! Did I do that? Well, since you're up...}).

Vacation or not, 6:30 is a fine time to start the day

We went through 2 whole cans of sunblock to protect our family's lily-white skin

Then, this week, there's the laundry, unpacking, sweeping up the 50 cubic tons of sand that we brought home and cleaning up the various and sundry cat messes that our pet sitter must not have noticed (man, do I appreciate what an awesome pet sitter I used to be).

As a result, I'm feeling just as tired and drained as I felt before this mini-vacation and desperately need a vacation from my life.

Ok, pity party's over, folks. The cops have been called about the excessive whining. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. Move along now.