How to make a relaxing vacation stressful!

We've been in Ottawa for, oh, 48 hours now, and I'm surprised that it's taken this long for me to start feeling the 'anxious drifting' feeling I get when I travel.  I supposed it's a short-term version of "the grass is greener on the other side".  What usual happens is that somewhere between not even arriving at our destination to a few days into a stay I start worrying.  Usually it's nothing big, just a niggling feeling at the back of my mind

'I feel out of my element, I can't find anything, I'm living out of a suitcase and I smell like 'travel' and all the stuff at home isn't going to do itself!'

It progresses from there.  I get blue, and then I get mad at myself for getting blue because, gosh darn it I'm ON VACATION!  Snap out of it!  It gets to a peak and then I have a little cry with David, who, God bless that man, pats me reassuringly even though in his head he's thinking "I'm never taking this woman anywhere again".  And then I'm a little better.

Sigh.  It hit me yesterday afternoon.  My parents look older even though in my mind they have always looked exactly the same.  My Mom's hair is different and suddenly curly, and I'm not sure about it.  The house is different; different towels that I don't remember.  I make a racket going up and down the stairs because I can't find the non-squeaky bits. 

I'm thirsty but maybe I shouldn't go downstairs to get some juice, maybe I should just cup my hands and drink from the bathroom faucet - I don't want to wake up Dad.

I keep apologising for how rambunctious Samuel is, even though Dad keeps saying it's just fine, because I know it isn't, I can see it in his eyes.  I feel defensive, and broke compared to their relative affluence.  I haven't been in a city for a long time and the buses and streets were stressing me out yesterday.

'Should I let Samuel walk on the sidealk in soft-soled shoes?  Please God, don't let him see that cigarette butt and pick it up.'

An elderly Chinese lady with long red fingernails held his hand on the bus to his great delight, and I was completely fine with it until I saw everyone's faces around me and wondered "should I not be fine with this?  Is she, like, a known drug dealer or something?"  I'm easily swayed into the mentality of buying the things I've sorely missed, like Pho (Vietnamese soup) or taking advantage of a cloth diaper sale - and yet when I do my budget, so reasonable in a tiny little town, is blown to pieces in a big city.

Did I spend $80 yesterday?  On some bus tickets and a cinnimon bun and a few diapers?  Oh and that little toy for Samuel...still, $80?

The questions overwhelm me; Is he still nursing?  I changed your laundry around, Amy, can I put a fabric sheet in with it?  Are you going to be home for supper?  Does David like ginger ale better than 7Up?  Do you need clean sheets?  Do you want me to set the coffee timer for 5:30 or 6:30?

The demands overwhelm me; If you want to go to the grocery store with me you have to be ready for 2pm sharp.  Sunday supper is a 5, so be here.  Call your grandmother, she wants to see you.  Set up the booster seat on this chair.

The instructions overwhelm me; Here's how you use the washing machine/take the bus to the mall/find the black tea/separate the recycling/call me on my cell phone/turn on the computer/fix the digital box if it won't work/flush the eco-friendly, multi-flush toilets.

I feel like I'm moving back home.  I feel like I did the day my father told me he had purchased separate towel sets for each member of the family and we were only to use our towels...except they all looked the same to me and I kept getting spoken to about using other people's towels.

I fell asleep at about 7:30 last night, just completely exhausted, and I woke up at 12:30 with the baby, wide awake.  After he nursed and went down in the crib I made my tentative way downstairs.

What will I say in case someone wakes up and finds me halfway down the stairs?

I ate two yogurt cups and had a glass of orange juice and went to sit in the livingroom for a bit.

That's almost the end of the juice, should I write it on a list somewhere?  Maybe they don't usually buy juice and just got it for us?  I don't know what they eat anymore.

After a lot of fiddling, I finally got the television on.  I feel practically Amish in my understanding of all of my parent's technology. 

The volume is turned up, how do I turn it down?  No, not that, ah, this!  Wait, was that loud enough to wake them?  Will they comment tomorrow and ask for an explanation?

But there was nothing on that wasn't more stress-enducing.  Joyce Meyer talking about sin.  Extreme couponing.  Sports highlights.  Nothing but an interesting sociological expose of the viewing preferences of people awake after midnight on a weeknight.

Time to creep upstairs.  What does this lightswitch do?  Should I put my spoon in the sink or beside it?  Everything is so creaky around here.

Clearly if I've discovered anything about my personality it's that missionary work is not my calling!