That word defines our trip in so many ways. There were in fact some very awesome times, but there were also a few times when we said, "awesome" and didn't mean it at all.

Like when we clogged the toilet at our friend, Paul's house (who let us stay in his fabulous guest house). Or when we went into Urban Outfitters to get change for the meter on UT campus and I suddenly had to pee (real bad). My only option was a nasty port-a-potty out back where there was a band playing (did I mention it was South by Southwest in Austin?) and drinks flowing. It was all fine and dandy until a boy (I say boy because no way was he over 21) said to myself and my (beautiful, I might add) sisters, "Go get some free alcohol. It might make you prettier." Ummmm. Really? Auntie Rosita glared at him and told him he was about to get punched in the face, while I said, "Too bad it wouldn't help you." Nice? No, but I wasn't in a nice mood at that point. I had to pee and was being called ugly. He said some choice words and walked away.

But the most "awesome" event of the trip wasn't even part of the trip itself, but part of our flight home. On our 2nd leg, the turbulence was TERRIBLE because of the sweet tornado watch in Omaha (lovely, eh?). Luckily, Sweet P and I had a row all to ourselves. This made what happened a bit easier to, err, swallow.

Let me interject here to say I do NOT have a stomach of steel. I don't even think it's made of wood. And while I love roller coasters, I really shouldn't ride them because it seldom ends well.

Can you see where this is going?

I'd already gagged on the way up, but what happened on the way down was even worse. I felt my stomach turn as we hit bump after bump, so I did what any person who was obeying the fasten seat belt sign and unwilling to drag a 23 month old into a tee-ninsy bathroom. I tossed my cookies (or pretzels) not once, not twice, not three times, but FOUR times in a barf bag (is there a nicer name for those things?). Something I've never done in my 30 years of life.

I was mortified and saying prayers that no one was witnessing this disgusting display (no one, of course, but my poor daughter). Poor Sweet P says to me, "Mama sad? Help you?" No baby, you can't help me. I just said, "It's okay" as I wiped my mouth with a baby wipe. Could there be anything more disgusting than vomiting in a plastic bag on an airplane? I think not.

That aside, we had a great time with Gammie and the aunties. We got to see lots of friends and family, celebrated Auntie Kannon and Gammie's birthdays and played outside A LOT! And as sad as it was to leave family and 80 degree weather (to come home to 45 degrees), it was nice to get home to our sweet Farmer and daddy. And since Sweet P turns 2 in May, that'll be our last flight for awhile (I hope).

Some pics from the trip:
With Auntie Kannon and Kannon (she's named after Auntie Kannon!) in Auntie K's sports bras

Examining RoRo's beads

Reading from cousin Noah's book

With Gammie at Kerbey Lane

The Girls!
How was your Spring Break?