Elephantitis, auras, chuntering and narcolepsy

The wonderful Sarah (Disney Head of PR for the UK) looked after us all week and it was only when she left us at Orlando airport that it was apparent how much we had relied upon her. After Linda got a bottle of champagne confiscated at bag scanning we got onto the wrong monorail. Poor lost bloggers.

There was no Premium Economy upgrade this time. Jane checked our auras whilst we waited to be called for boarding. We were all fine apart from English Mum whose aura was depleted. At least she had one though. No aura, no fly.

Further integration into normal life followed when I stood back aghast that the toilets at the airport were not self flushing and the taps were not sensor led. We had been spoilt.

The flight was as expected … chewy beef stew, watching films with one working headphone (at one point I thought I may have gone deaf in one ear due to the screaming on the rollerccoasters), a breakfast muffin which had runny cheese covering its innards. The cheese had a consistency I have never experienced before and hopefully will never again.

When we reached Gatwick I said goodbye to my six new friends. It was a sad moment. We had experienced so much in our week away and I felt bereft as I wandered aimlessly round the South Terminal. Who would make me laugh now?

The fatigue slowly crept up. I had five hours to waste and I could have slept standing up. I felt like a cross between Tom Hanks in The Terminal and a zombie in Night of the Living Dead.

As I slowly lost the will to live the music in the terminal got more bizarre. It swung from plinky plonky show tunes to suicide inducing Russian love ballads. I considered falling asleep on a bench but panicked that I would never wake and miss my flight.

Every time I thought of my children I got teary. At times I heard Linda’s chuntering or Lulu laughing. Of course I was hallucinating.

Finally I got my flight. It was pain free and I slept in a bobbing head fashion on and off. I think the woman next to me thought I had narcolepsy.

In desperate anticipation of seeing my children I got my 100th and final wind. My bag couldn’t come out on the conveyor belt fast enough and I nearly sprinted through arrivals.

The 4 year old clung to me for dear life, the 3 year old looked at me all red cheeked and asked for his present. I wondered if he had missed me as much as his sister, but then he grabbed my hand and didn’t let go until we reached the car.

When we got home and the children had stroked all their presents and the 4 year old had stared at me repeatedly (just checking I was really back) I put them to bed and realised just how much I had missed their cuddles and reading to them at night.

I lay on the sofa, ate pizza and admired my swollen ankles. I looked like I had elephantitis. I went to bed at 8.45 and only woke in the middle of the night when husband came to bed. I was having a beautiful Disney dream … all sparkly and awesome.

Husband has been brilliant. Apart from doing a sterling job with the children he let me waffle on all the way back from the airport (a bit like the irritating 'when I was at band camp' girl from American Pie), let me sleep in this morning and has brought me a cup of tea. The only problem I have now is weaning the children off midget gems.

This morning I am walking around as if I have pooed myself. I haven't but I am aching all over. It's either whiplash or my body has seized up because I have stopped walking everywhere at top speed. Either way I wish I could have another swedish massage.

Things I have thought about this morning and laughed to myself in a slightly crazy manner about;

Linda sending a text message accidentally telling people she had tried crack for the first time, when in fact she was eating crab

Seeing the Wishes firework show and getting teary – I don’t do emotional

The US blogger uber mummy who kept asking us to say ‘brilliant’ and ‘lovely’

Linda’s synopsis of Gran Torino on our return flight … grumpy bigoted bugger … chunter … Chinese girl … chunter … next door neighbour … chunter … bloody dead …. Chunter … crap.

The best beef I’ve EVER tasted at Citricos

Travelling Premium Economy and bonding with Jane over hot towels, Woody Allen and the skymap

Seeing Cinderella’s castle for the first time which filled me with joy

Mr Incredible doing press ups at the Move it Shake it Celebrate it street party – I think I fell in love momentarily with a cartoon character

Erica squeezing my arm so hard on Dinosaur that I have a bruise

The Aerosmith Rock ‘n’ Roller rollercoaster which was the by far the best and English Mum confessing as we were about to step onto it that this was her 'first time' in a laid back manner

The 4 year old is bonkers ...

The picture above is a tiny percentage of faces the 4 year can pull.

Most of her time is spent on the bottom two rows, although she can swing from top left to bottom right in 0-60 seconds when the mood takes her.

She's turning into a brainbox and would rather spend her time writing and drawing than anything else. She questions everything ... and always wants to be right.

In the 'creative brainbox questioning everything and being right' sense she is very much like her father.

She's developing a wicked sense of humour and she LOVES chocolate ... which is of course all down to ... ahem ... me.

More belly laughter than I know what to do with

The husband and I have just returned from a weekend away without children. 48 hours of not having to worry if I have the correct combination of raisins, juice, wipes and nappies in my handbag. Not going to bed with a feeling of dread, knowing that I will be rudely woken at 5.30am by a child wielding a Dora the Explorer backpack in my face. Not having to berate anyone for beating their sibling with a fork/stick/wand/sword (delete as appropriate).

The husband and I began to unwind with each other. Our relationship seems to be under constant stress at the moment and we’re often relieved to have made it through another day without one of us turning into a dribbling wreck. Regular communication and affection are reserved for another time, a time when the madness has subsided.

We went away with three other couples. It was just what we needed. Lots of laughing, relaxation, good food, drink and most importantly excellent company.

We made several phone calls home to check on the status of the children who were having a ball. A picnic with Auntie K, the park, drawing, baking, shoulder rides with big cousins, swimming, chocolate buttons with Grandma … much more fun than they get on an average weekend. It was reported that they were both behaving beautifully and … well, it seems the 2 year old slept better than ever before, having to actually be woken up one morning. This has never happened at home … EVER. Bitter? Me? Absolutely!

Our last day was spent having a leisurely walk in the sunshine along the river and mooching round shops before heading home. I was excited to be coming home. Despite my grumbling I miss them terribly when I am without them. If I think really hard about it, I even miss plucking dried Cheerios out of the 2 year olds hair and arguing with the 4 year old about which shoes she should wear (pink princess flip flops that are 3 sizes too big will never be appropriate for a muddy dog walk).

They were delighted to see us too … and very tired. After the initial excitement it began; ‘it’ being the punishment. The ‘how dare you leave us, we’ve had a bloody great time, but YOU LEFT US!’ punishment. It was a titanic two pronged tantrum which lasted two hours. They rode the relentless waves of tantrum through tea and bath time before finally falling asleep. I don’t know how it started or what started it but it was definitely designed to cause as much grief and guilt as possible.

When they were asleep I felt a rush of both guilt and desire. Guilt for leaving them and messing up their routine; desperate desire to be back in our lovely cottage with more belly laughter than I know what to do with.