Jet Lag

The girls and I fell on our faces early last night. Somewhere between picking them up from school and making dinner, the exhaustion set in. I mean, really set in. I robotically made it through the evening routine but by 5 PM, I was falling asleep on my feet. Brent tells me he nodded off riding the train and missed his stop. Everyone was in bed by 6 and as if by magic, everyone woke up right at 1 AM.

Sydney was vociferously cooing and clutching her tiny feet. Brigitta was calling from the crib, "Up? Up?" Yes my love, we are all up. My chidings to go back to bed were met with, "But I'm not tired!" After staring at the ceiling for an hour, I have to agree. The babies (who sleep somewhat round the clock) seem to be handling the jet lag the best. For the rest of us, I suppose we'll stay up for a few hours and try again to sleep after that. In the meantime, I'm going to have a bit of red velvet cake-flavored yogurt and try to wrap my brain around the amazing adventures we've had abroad.

Yesterday Brent was looking out one of the master bedroom windows and he said, "It looks different out there." As I came to the window to see what he meant, he added, "I mean it's the same, but it looks different." And it does. Our travels have made such an impression on us, our perspective has permanently changed. After a glimpse of true poverty, I don't know that I'll ever flippantly say, "I'm starving! Let's get something to eat..." After visiting the orphanage, I'll think twice when I'm frustrated with the girls and threaten to sell them down the river. After being in a country that only recently saw the end of apartheid, I don't know that I'll ever view racism the same way again.

In the coming days as I work to readjust my circadian rhythms, and I find myself at the computer in the early morning hours, I will try to describe all we experienced. However, I must warn you that sometimes there are just no words.