Here we go again...

This weekend I went to D.C. to visit Sister #2, who's finishing up her Master's degree in the city of creepy business people. I couldn't mention it ahead of time because my presence and that of Sister #1 was a surprise. Sister #2 knew that my parents were heading out to visit her, but our arrival took her completely off guard. It was a great weekend full of sightseeing, scrumptious meals, and waaaay too much wine. (Mike Z--you're definitely right about the wine!) I'd vowed upon my return to go into detox, but due to current circumstances, that's been impossible.

The Banker did wonderful with Becca in my absence. It was with no shortage of angst that I left her. Alone. With her Dad. The man who can watch an action flick, drool streaming from the corner of his mouth, unaware the house is burning down around him. But The Banker rocked the single daddy thing. Although I think he was really glad to have me back after four days on the job...he greeted me in the front yard with his arms outstretched, Becca swinging in the breeze.

The lack of effective detox is due to The House Hunt. We've been here, done this. Right before I found out I was pregnant, we were thisclose to putting a bid in on a "country home" with a few acres. Resistance from family members and an unexpected pregnancy stopped us in our tracks, but The Banker has continued to keep an eye out and on occasion we tour a home that looks promising.

Last week we found such a home. Totally rehabbed, gorgeous living room and kitchen, two-and-a-half treed acres, much closer into town than anything we'd looked at previous. And my dad, breaking his long refusal to look at homes that don't meet his desired locale, took a peek at the home yesterday. The result was a wee bit soul crushing. This house is the same distance from his house as the one we're in now--20 minutes. It's in the best school district in the state. The house isn't perfect, but we're looking into making it better meet our needs. But my dad's inability to say anything positive and his usual complaints of "too much land, too far out there" were regurgitated. Again.

I'm an adult. I'm fully capable of purchasing a house without my parents' go-ahead. But my dad knows a great deal about home building and I wanted his expert opinion. But he just can't seem to get over his own desires for where we live.

So we're at it again: The Banker frustrated and me with this sinking feeling in my gut. Do we buy this house? Or do we look at finding a few acres (harder to find in all this urban sprawl) and try to build something ourselves? What can we truly afford? The housing market sucks. I don't want to think of moving in the frigid winter. Why, why, why is this so dang hard???

Whew...

Becca is battling what we think is the stomach flu. The Banker and I were up all night waiting for her stomach to return to some semblance of normal. (The nurse on call claims that she received hundreds of calls from distraught parents with similar complaints.) Today she's not puking, but I can tell she's not 100 percent.

And the house is still in turmoil after our return, and I can't find a number of items that I just saw. Laundry, yard work, and cleaning all need to be caught up with. My hopes for starting a photo album of our trip are postponed until...after Christmas? And I've a freelance article looming that still lacks even a single interview. This weekend is jam packed and offers no time for catch-up.

How do people do this? How do they balance work, home, babes, families, and all the other demands of life?

Happy Returns

Drowning in laundry, mail, e-mail, house cleaning, unpacking, and life in general. So I just don't have time for a proper update...yet. But we've returned safely, Becca had a blast at my parents', and the trip was a great success. Here's a little peek:


A little girl dressed in native finery


A street in Cusco, which was considered the center of the Inca Empire


Part of the ancient Inca trail through the Cloud Forest


The view from one of our camps


And after four days of hiking, Machu Picchu

A fond farewell for now...

We depart on Friday afternoon, but before then there's just so much that has to be accomplished. Having never traveled with the added responsibility of being a parent, I wasn't prepared for all the planning--large and small--that this trip would entail.

Wills were signed, in triplicate, this morning. Tomorrow I undergo the blood and urine tests necessary for life insurance (since leaving The Really Big Company, I'd had no coverage). Nine days worth of diapers, wipes, cereal, formula, distilled water, and pureed veggies, fruits, and meats, have been dropped off at my parent's. The house needs to be cleaned for the house/dog/cat sitter. And The Banker and I need to double and triple check our packing list--then actually pack--to make sure nothing important is left behind. Peru is not the sort of place were you can run into a Quick Trip at midnight for any last-minute necessity.

But with all the physical preparations, I've been neglecting mentally preparing for this trip. It wasn't till I was on the plane to Australia that it fully dawned on me that I was going to be away from my loved ones for almost a year. Postponed panicking is how I cope. But this time it's different--I need to come to terms with what this adventure means. I will be away from Becca for nine long days. Even when I run to the store alone, it sort of feels like I'm missing a limb.

Can I handle this? Can my parents handle this? I know they've successfully accomplished this three times over, but it's exhausting, and they're not young pups anymore. Are we fit enough for this excursion? Will everything be okay?

If you're the praying type, I'd appreciate a few for a safe and enjoyable adventure and a few more that Becca will be safe and happy with my parents. If you're not the praying type, crossed fingers would do. Until we meet again--farewell!