Releasing expectations

I am really lucky that TJ and I have similar vacation styles, because he would be thoroughly fed up with me by now.  It's Friday (Happy Good Friday!) and I'm STILL sick.  As of last night I still had a fever, puked again, and went to bed at 7:30pm and slept (sort of) until 10 this morning.  I'm the worst vacation buddy ever.

Even worse because he's had to pick up 90% of the kid duties, including adjusting to T's new schedule which seems to be:

• Nap normally (1.5-3 hours around 1pm)
• Go to bed between 8-9pm (so far, so good)
• Sleep exactly 4 hours then awake and ready to rock
• Go back to sleep between 2-3am and sleep until 10:30am (this we can live with)

We've tried waking her up from naps if they're longer than 3 hours, putting her to bed earlier, putting her to bed later, and they all result in her waking up exactly 4-5 hours after we put her down.  It doesn't really correlate with the time back in Seattle and she's getting the same *amount* of sleep.  Sigh.

On the bright side, she decided all by herself that she wants to sleep in the Big Girl Bed instead of the port-a-crib.  So the first night she just switched and (fingers crossed!) hasn't fallen out yet.  She agreed at home that she would give her crib to The Baby in Mama's Belly, so that may be easier than I thought.

We did venture out for a bit yesterday, because I couldn't stand it anymore.  We drove up to Killarney, the next big town, about 30 km away (see how I deal in kilometers now!).  That may have been a mistake because the drive is on a steep, narrow, winding road that would have been fantastic on a motorcycle but in a compact car was a bit nauseating. 

We got to the town and couldn't find the cathedral we were looking for but wandered around and stopped in a pub for a bit, where I heard the original version of Over the Hills and Far Away by Gary Moore, which totally made my day.  It's the little things.

The landscape here isn't as green as I expected; in fact, the road to Killarney (good old vomitous N71) is surrounded by scrub and mountains that looks remarkably like Southern Arizona, minus the cacti.  We saw a LOT of sheep, this time with hot pink stripes, so we dubbed them Fashion Model Punk Rock Sheep.  Sometimes they escape through holes in the fence and wander across the road, but TJ wouldn't let me get out and hug a baby lamb.  (Probably just as well.)

I've taken less than 10 photos on this trip (aagh!) and really hope to get it together in the next couple of days.  Please send virus-fighting thoughts!