I have a 'kick me' birthmark on my back.

Greetings from sunny Tennessee, all. It's 40 degrees here and everyone is bundled up like the next ice age has come. Wacky as it sounds, it make me homesick for Utah and REAL winter weather.

Josh was officially discharged from the hospital on December 10th. He was exactly two months old, and weighed six pounds. He left the hospital trailing a big oxygen tank on wheels and a beeping pulse oximeter which made him quite cumbersome, but we managed just fine. I spent a few more days in Utah to make sure the little guy was stable, then got ready to fly out here. The night before my flight left was long and sad. Part of me was so excited to be getting back to Ron and the kids, but another part of me was keenly aware that I was losing a great deal of freedom. During those long weeks I spent waiting on Josh, I was able to jump in the car and go places without having to get all the kids ready and negotiate naps, meals, bathroom trips and the like. Everything was faster and easier. I didn't have to clean up after anyone but myself, or worrying about feeding anyone else. It was so simple not having to deal with the schedules of five other people. Without question, the part of me that was dying to get home to my family was much stronger. And so, I spent that last night packing and getting things set up for Ron to take back when he came for the van. I didn't sleep at all. There was a weird sort of electric feeling in me that made the whole thing kind of surreal. I didn't feel like my time in Utah was really over until I was looking out the window of the airplane as it started to speed down the runway. The sun wasn't up yet, and the lights of downtown Salt Lake were still lit. It's such a beautiful city. That's when I realized I was really leaving. I cried again. Dang, I do that a lot these days! I felt like I hadn't said a proper goodbye to Lesli and her family, and that I hadn't gotten closure on the whole NICU experience yet. Of course, it was much too late at that point.

Hours later, I finally made it to Tennessee. As I was leaving the plane, a flight attendant met me at the bottom of the ramp to ask if I needed the oxygen my husband had brought. My heart jumped. "Does that mean he's up there at the gate? Does he have a bunch of kids with him?" I zipped up the ramp and into the airport where I was met by a tall kid with a thick head of dark hair who yelled "MOM!" when he saw me. I didn't even recognize my own son! All the boys had ridiculously grown out hair-- especially Ron. Eric seemed twice as big, and Jack (who didn't seem to be any bigger) was twice as mature. It was such a shock. We grabbed some lunch and headed back to the house.

This place is so insanely tiny that there's no way we can unpack everything. There's one EDBD bathroom, one closet, and we're miles from town. It's going to be crazy around here until we can find a place with more room.

In the first few days I was here, I did a lot more unpacking, got haircuts for all the Whitaker men, and tried not to lose my sanity with all the kids running around in a small space. Ron had to retrieve the van and all the Christmas presents crammed into the back of it. It was quite a difference-- going from being free of kid responsibilities to suddenly having four kids and an infant all by myself. I survived, but I'm still getting used to things.

Anyway, I've run out of time and everyone's mad at me for being on the computer for so long.

Christmas was wonderful.

The kids were all sick, Josh had pneumonia, but we're all better now.

Happy new year!