We survived the journey and thank heavens we’re home. {And what do you think about the look around here by the way? Do you “get” what the red and blue stripes are supposed to be about? Please don’t say a barber shop. There are still some more tweaks for me to sort out but I didn’t want to go too wild and have you show up and think you’d lost me and someone else had taken over.}

Jet lag isn’t helping me focus on talking about one thing at the time. Sorry. The journey. Thursday night was the worst night of travel we have probably ever experienced. And honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Although the Hubs referred to it as a night from the bad place. British Airways kind of let me down. I’ve always loved them and been impressed with their service and happy when it works out for us to fly with them. But this time around, tweren’t so. Nuh-uh, it just tweren’t.

{Saturday’s instagram of the mega-tired, jet-lagged, teary-eyed, temporarily-happy-with-an-animal-cracker baby}

Would you believe that all the lighting on the place was functioning properly except for a broken sidelight directly above our seats on the plane? Now please note I’m not talking about a teency lil’ reading light. I’m talking about those bright mamajamas they turn on when it’s time for you to wake up at an unnatural hour for breakfast, because it’s really dark and 3 am but you’re headed for a new time zone and they won’t be ready to land on time if they don’t serve you your breakfast now.

So everybody’s lights were doing just fine until dinner had been served and duty free had been hollered about, and the lights were finally dimmed for sleep, and we discovered this tragic matter of disrepair while poor Blakey who had managed to sleep in the bassinet and survive all the flight attendants who just weren’t interested in using a quiet voice when they came to speak to us even though they could see his tiny little self sleeping. right. there… poor Blakey stirred at some point for some {noisy cart getting slammed into place in the galley} reason, and he woke to a nice bright light shining down on him, and we took turns trying to settle him down and I think the Hubs managed like three hours later.

But he never slept in that little bassinet again for the rest of the flight, because, ya know, a glorious luminescent sunshine was beaming in his wee face. And mine too since I was seated by the window. And the Hubs, too because even though he was on the aisle, that thing was bright.

{And in case you’re wondering, yes, we were the only family with two kids on the whole plane, seated there beneath a broken light trying to settle a wide-eyed sleepy baby while everyone else slept soundly. Ya jerks! Yes, we did think about breaking the light. I may have punched the plastic surrounding it with my fist. Twice. No, we weren’t allowed to cover it up somehow (fire hazard.) Yes, the Bear who can hibernate at any time did sleep through the whole night anyway (thank heavens.) And no, they could {would?} not change our seats. And yes, we do think a flight attendant fibbed to us about whether this had been a problem before. And. to top it off, the food was lousy. That never happens with BA!}

We had a shorter layover in London than we thought, so we just took our time collecting our lion-tired selves and changing terminals. When we told the Bear we were in London again, he said, “No we’re not! This is Gordon’s Bay!” I suppose he was confused.

The next flight just seemed really long, even though it was shorter, because it was a day time flight and there wasn’t much napping happening (although the Hubs has a magic touch for getting babies to sleep on airplanes — reason #684, why the Hubs is a Hero, and Blakey slept beside him for a while.) Another little girl who was on the flight played with the boys for a while and the Bear called some friends we made who were seated behind us and moving from the UK to the Carolinas his new pals. Very sweet.

After a taxi ride to get our car and a two hour drive, my Dad and Claudia came to the rescue, meeting us with food at our house. After the boys went to bed, we pretty much collapsed. And (#685) the Hubs got up Saturday morning to drive to New Bern and shoot a wedding. And he didn’t get home till after half past one. Meanwhile, it was all I could do to unpack the dishwasher and keep the boys from causing themselves bodily harm for a day.

I am dizzy a lot.

Off to the first of his last three days of preschool (summer break) went the Bear this morning. The Tank is taking morning naps like his life depends on it right now. And I am washing Mama Africa’s red dirt and rough sand out of the boys’ clothing, and rejoicing when it doesn’t quite come out of their socks, because I want it to still be there, be with us.

A visit to the gallery I need to tell you more about is ahead of us today. I am planning to get our house in order, one room and one day at a time. {Close your eyes if you come over.} And the Hubs is doing what he does best — juggling a task list a mile long, spinning thirty-seven plates in the air, and still managing to love the boys and me like a champ.

I’m starting to feel settled, and hopeful, and it’s good, very good, to be lowercase-h home.