Eight suitcases

And eight suitcases later (five more than we left with), we are back in Brisbane. That was the damage done during our one-month holiday vacation in Morton. We pretty much declared everything possible when we went through customs because we weren't actually certain of the contents of our suitcases. Drew took a dump, sit and zip approach to packing, which I was thankful for because then I didn't spend hours doing it. (I am manic about organizing my suitcases, and it takes forever.) Actually, we were sure what was in our eight suitcases -- it was all toys. Truly. Days one through five our upstairs looked like a tornado had come through -- just a kind one that left toys. Then I had the great idea to just move all of that mess downstairs into the toy room, planning we would organize it once it was done there. But days six through seven, that has yet to happen. Patience. I told Drew I feel like I am living in a toy landfill. 

So my New Year's resolution is to keep up with this blog and all other electronic communications for that matter. (I should probably add cell phone communication to the list since I am horrible at that. I'm going to say that is genetic and blame my dad.) However, in addition to Jackson and Maeve, two other resolutions may compete with the first. 1) Entourage and 2) our resolution to drink more wine on the back porch. But who are we kidding? We are so jet lagged and exhausted once the kids fall asleep so do we, and all of these resolutions are abandoned. There is always tomorrow . . .