Matt's coming home tomorrow! Matt's coming home tomorrow! Matt's coming home tomorrow! Matt's coming home tomorrow! Matt's coming home tomorrow! Matt's coming home tomorrow!

I'm so excited, I can barely stand it.

I get my husband back! I don't have to remember to do all the chores myself, or keep track of all the bills.

I don't have to drive an extra 45 minutes each morning to drop Penny off at daycare, or an extra 45 minutes each afternoon to pick her up. I'll have someone around to tag off with when she's in a foul mood, and to back me up when I put my foot down.

I can run errands without having to arrange for a babysitter. I can start doing the Thursday evening scrapbooking sessions again. I can sleep in once a week again!

I'll be able to have conversations using words of more than two syllables, and covering topics more stimulating than colors and the number of the day. I don't have to sleep alone anymore, and I'll be able to give someone a hug and a kiss without a fifty percent chance of them wriggling out of my embrace and scrubbing furiously at their face and saying, "YUCK!"

I could move my shower back to the morning. (Though I might not. We'll see how it goes.) But I won't have to wander all over the house in nothing but my underwear if Penny just happens to wake up while I'm getting dressed.

I'll be able to leave work at 4 again. And I can consider making meals that take more than 45 minutes to prep and cook.

Matt's coming home tomorrow!

Dad and I were walking yesterday, and he was talking about his planning for their August Cancun trip. (Yes, they just came back. Apparently, they really like it there. They have a timeshare for two weeks every August, and then two weeks every other March.)

He wondered if perhaps this year, we'd be going with them.

I've told him that I don't even want to consider taking Penny to Cancun until she's potty trained. "Not this year, Dad."

"That's five whole months! You don't think Penny will be potty trained by then?"

"She doesn't even know when she's got a load in her pants, yet, Dad. I'll be surprised if she's potty trained a year from now." (Depressing, but true.)

"Oh. Well, we'll see if any of your mother's buddies wants to come with us, maybe."

"Maybe I'll leave Matt and Penny here and spend a week in Cancun by myself!"

"You'd be more than welcome!" he said enthusiastically.

I'd been joking. But he's my Dad. You know how it is. I told Matt about it later, expecting him to chuckle and shake his head over my dad's dadliness.

"You could," he said. "You'd still have some karma built up."

...And all of a sudden, it actually seems kind of plausible.

It might even be helpful for me to do the trip once before we consider taking Penny, just so we know what we're in for. (How's that for rationalization?)

Well, it's something to think about, anyway. I've got a couple of months before I'd need to make a decision and start preparing. I need to at least find out which two weeks they've got. I wouldn't want to miss Penny's birthday. (Though it's not like she can read a calendar; she wouldn't even know, much less object, if we had her party a week early or late.)

Okay, time to stop thinking about it for a bit.

We got home last night, and I got my stuff out of the car, then got Penny out of the car, and then went down to the mailbox to get the mail. By the time I'd turned around, Penny was already up the stairs to our next-door neighbor's house and straining to reach their doorbell.

"Go see Ray-ray?" she asked when I followed her. "Mommy help? Pusha button?"

"Honey, I don't think-"

"Pusha button please! See Ray-ray!"

I suppose, if I keep saying that I wish Penny would play with other kids more, then I have to encourage it when she does want to play with other kids, don't I?

Even if I know for a fact that she's pulling a switcheroo on me, and actually just wants to see Ray-ray's pet cat.

--Liz