No worries, Mama

I was on this earth and childless for 33 years so pardon me if I am continually surprised that in just three and a half years time it is completely and overwhelmingly foreign for me to be without my kids. The past seven days of being without them has been challenging. 

And wonderful. 

I can say this, of course, because I sit here in the cozy (smirk) Atlanta International airport, through customs, and aware that my babes will be safely asleep in their own beds when I land in Indy in a couple of hours.  I, too, am safe from travels to an exotic place where I pushed my the limits of safety and security starting with unsuccessfully appeasing my Jamaican customs officer's questions-- but that is a story best shared over some rum punch. 
I worried much more about my safe return than the safety of my kids; the only harm to my babies will surely be undoing eight days of grandma-coddle-your-every-whimness.

No pictures today. Jamaica is not a land to be captured in two dimensional form. Even for a seasoned photographer. Our paradise escape resort surrounded you with a heightened sense of beauty for the eyes, warmth for the skin, food for the belly (four or five course gourmet meals standard), saltwater to surround your skin as you float in the gorgeous sea, lush sounds of ocean wave serenity (minus a particular crowing peacock), drink for the brain, like a giant euphoric bubble. See what sleeping twelve hours a day does to a girl?!? I am a new person, I swear.

Wanna go? Yeah, that is what I thought. No photograph will do the place justice, yet maybe I will post one or two I get back and blow the dust off my idle keyboard. 

All in all, it was the single greatest, most relaxing, fantastic vacation of my life. I missed my little men terribly, but as they say on the islands "No worries, mon!"