There are times in ones life when there is so much going on, and life is moving so quickly, that you barely have time to stop and breathe let alone recall all of the happenings for the purpose of ones blog. Bloggers … meet my last two weeks!

Our family of 3 (plus one in development) took its second family vacation since the birth of V three and a half years ago. Since I’ve been terrified of flying since experiencing an emergency landing somewhere in the middle of the U.S. after our plan blew and engine and lost all power, I’ve not yet figured exactly how to take a family flight knowing I can’t survive without my Valium. Rather than asking my husband to take care of two children (myself and V) during flight, we opted for a vacation within driving distance. Location of choice? Our former home and the place we met, San Francisco.

We rented an amazing flat in my old ‘hood, Noe Valley. We visited old friends and took V places we thought he’d enjoy. We’ve never experienced the city with a child, so it was a new experience for us. Children’s Museums, Bison in Golden Gate Park, the ocean, seals on the pier, street performers, and the added bonus of MLB All-Star Week aside, V’s favorite part of the city? The street cars. Or trains as he called them. We rode them every day and he loved, loved, loved them. He loved the noises, the smorgasbord of people that ride them, the fact that he was free from his car seat.

Our time in the city was nearly perfect except for two things. My never-ending pregnancy-related nausea (month FIVE people!!), and the husband’s bad attitude. It happens every time we go back to the city, so I’m not sure why I was surprised it reared it’s ugly head yet again. Perhaps because several months back we talked about moving back to the bay area and even started sending out resumes. When I started receiving calls on my resume, we had a long talk. The husband has never truly been happy here in the valley and has often mourned our move. Do we move or do we stay? I left the decision up to him because, quite frankly, I was fed up with the “we should have never left” and “there’s nothing here for me here” mantra that had become yesterday’s news and something I’ve never understood because – as I’ve reminded him a ba-gillion times – he wasn’t happy living in the bay area, either. The fact is, the guy has some issues he needs to deal with beyond his zip code, but that’s for a counselor’s ears.

Anyway, he/we decided that based on our life as it is at the moment, it doesn’t make financial sense – or otherwise – to move back to the bay at this time. End of discussion. Or so I thought.

Back to our visit in the city this past week. It didn’t take but a few days for the attitude to start. And it didn’t take much longer to ruin my week. Add to that my impregnated, nauseated, cranky-ass and you’ve got trouble. It wasn’t pretty. Thankfully, we had it out and moved on to become friends, once again.

After leaving the city on Friday, we headed south to San Francisco to visit some more friends and stay over at my aunt and uncle’s house. Saturday morning, we headed just south-east of Half Moon Bay to a little town called Loma Mar for our annual family campout. My most favorite weekend of the year – for the last 31 years!! Even though the weekend was spectacular, as always, and V had so much fun he cried when it was time to leave, I spent most of it feeling like shit. Pregnant shit. And starting to get a little bit pissed off about it, too.

So we’ve been home for three days now and the suitcases are still not unpacked. No laundry has been started. And very little food has been added to the refrigerator. I just can’t seem to find the energy. Or the motivation. I’m hoping both will re-appear in my life any minute now. In the meantime, here are a few photos I hope you enjoy!!



Feet on Beach