It's a start...

What do you do when you have a million thoughts and experiences flooding your mind, the intense urge to write them down, but are lacking in the time to express such things? Okay, more like lack of energy. Time is always available. It's just a matter of sacrificing sleep, which I have done a little too much of, and still haven't found the time for this.

Over the last 6 weeks I have had inumerable experiences: fleeting moments, trips, flashbacks, evening chats, early morning thoughts that have put my soul on emotional overload. No, I am not having a nervous breakdown. I'm saving that for later. Perhaps it's more of an emotional break-down, in a good way, if that is possible to imagine. I've wanted to share on my blog some phenomenal epiphanies and simple pleasures to document this transformation of thought going on in my head. While doing some brainless activity like loading the dishwasher, folding clothes or whatever I start pruning my thoughts and planting seeds of expression in my mind, how this or that has affected me, and schwwappp!! A new one lands on my plate, be it in the form of a phone call, e-mail, or whatever instantaneous form of communication that can shock, thrill, or pain you (sometimes I can use all three in a singular message related to me.)

To answer the question I posed in my first sentence (wow, I am already digressing!) I attempt to begin why in just a matter of weeks one can feel so changed, or more accurately, one can desire to be so changed, if only there was time enough for relflection on that particular event. I feel like in order for me to truly allow these things that have happened to change me, I need to write them down.

Allow me to start. I probably won't even get close to finishing, but I can at least start. (Savannah is stirring and will be waking soon) At the very beginning. Though the way my mind has been running (circles) there really isn't one. So I shall begin chronologically. I think the Greeks would appreciate that. Why? I dunno. There I go trailing off again...

In early March I loaded my own carry-on and two very full suitcases in our Honda to be driven to the airport and dropped off. All by myself. My destination? Quito, Ecuador. Most of you readers know this because we all enjoyed Kyle's hilarious accounts of Mr. Mommin' it at home.

I hadn't been to Quito in almost exactly five years and I was returning to visit my sis-in-law Heather who was down there, and to revisit the life that changed me so much.

I hadn't had much of a chance to create any expectation for the trip. My life continues to be a series of events with little or no time for me to think about them in advance. While I had my tickets to go to Quito for a number of weeks, I hadn't thought beyond being dropped off at the aiport. Seriously. The single event of packing for only myself and getting dropped off by myself was enough of a thought to bring me to a completel euphoric mental state, that I didn't really need to think much further to be happy about the trip.

So there I was, standing in the airport, bags checked. Just me and my carry on, and an amazingly free left hand. I then began thinking about what could perhaps transpire. I was hungry, (no surprise. didn't eat breakfast as usual) so I stopped somewhere to eat. That was really nice. I got to eat where I wanted to without any thought of--- is there child-friendly food? Is there time to cram something down my throat before the flight leaves? I had arrived at the airport in plenty of time and there was no possibility of any sort of child-related emergency that could zap that "plenty-o'-time" and force me to have to forgo a meal and end up running to the gate screaming, "Don't leave without us! We're all here!"

I sat and pondered my current state and completely relished in it. I was on vacation. No guilt. The kids were home with Dad so no friend or parent of mine or Kyle's was being unreasonably abused for their kindness or willingness to watch my children. Kyle is a compeltely capable father (or so he lead me to belive. His blog posts can make one think otherwise!) It was wonderful. I pulled out a book a girlfriend had recommended and began reading it. Time to board the plane. Got in my seat, and enjoyed eavesdropping (it's amazing what you can overhear when you don't have a curious child asking a hilarious question every few seconds) on a conversation between a corporate right-winged southern gentleman and a stay-at-home mother of 4 who homeschool's her children. Also right-winged in case you were wondering. I read my book and listened some more. I eventually found myself entering the conversation here and there with my thoughts, questions, or opinions. We landed in Huston and I was hungry again. So I ate again. (my secret goal for the week was to see how long I could go without having to make myself a meal! That to me is vacation in it's truest form!) I called my brother and sisters to chat and bid farewell and then called my dad to tell him where all our important account and password information was in case I didn't make it back. Why tell Kyle, that would arm him with too much information at once. And, should I make it back, well, I would be completely disposable if he knew all that stuff. Dad joked he was glad he saved my voice mail I left in case those were my last living words. At that point Ecuador was on the brink of war, so my parents, well, mother rather, was a bit nervous. Mom has enough nerves for both of them so my Dad gets to be the optimistic and positive one.

I wandered the airport passing gates that lead passengers to all sorts of glorious destinations. I considered Cancun. That sounded way more exotic and exciting, but then remembered the real reason I was going to Ecuador....