Blurred Lines

I’m home!  I’m home, I’m home, I’m home.  I am so f#%@ing happy to be home, I can’t even tell you.  This last trip was 10 days, not too bad.  But the break between trips was just a week, so it felt waaaay longer than normal.

Its strange to come home after such a long and intense roadtrip.  Life on the road is a little manic.  You spend all your time with a bunch of people that become your family in a way.  This little unit of people traversing across the country (or the world!) experiencing all kinds of madness and chaos along the way in the hyper microcosm that is entertainment business.  People catering to your every need.  Successes earned.   Surreal moments experienced.  Calls home are tough, brief and don’t cover the half of the stuff that’s gone on…

Shorty #2 is happy I'm home...

Shorty #2 is happy I’m home…

The next thing you know you’re walking in your front door, to the family waiting within.  All smiles and kisses and hugs. This is where you experience The Blurred Lines of your life – the reality of life on the road and life at home.  The difference between room service and the empty fridge, feather beds and snotty sheets, car service and the gas station.  Life on the road can be plush.  Life at home can be tough.  Maybe the lines aren’t so blurred after all.  What time is our dinner reservation becomes do we have any cans of soup in the cupboard?  Can housekeeping collect the laundry becomes holy sh&%, how can two kids create so much laundry?  Oh, there’s George Clooney at the bar becomes there’s my neighbor taking up 2 parking spots again.

If you’ve been following the R&R Mom, you’ve heard me prattle on about this before.  I love coming back to the reality that is home.  But it always takes a couple of days to get back into the swing and not expect the maid to make my bed.  Some other road warriors I know call it their grumpy time.  It really is a readjustment.  For me, its trying to slow down to the pace of everyday life rather than the protracted 18 hour work day that the road can be.  The first day I’m home, people expect me to be tired; “You don’t want to meet for lunch when you’re just getting home!”  Quite the contrary, just try and stop me.  Poor J – I’m like ” Lets go here and here and here and HERE and then when we get home lets do this and this and THIS.”  Day 2 on the other hand and I’m crashing.  Can’t stay up past 8pm.  That is NOT a very rock and roll bedtime.

So here I am back in the land of poopy diapers and grocery lists, happy for a little reality check.  Counting the days until the next trip (5) but this time for vacation with the shorties!

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