Home Sweet Home

The Grand Sierra Resort is familiar to Robert and I, as we have stayed there before. Only then it was known by the quaint name 'Reno Hilton'. Now it has some updated rooms (which we didn't stay in) and abbreviates its name as GSR... which makes me think "Gun Shot Residue" thanks to my husband's addiction to CSI: Las Vegas. But this was Reno, so we're OK. I didn't see any dead bodies. But there were dogs. Lots of dogs.

Apparently GSR is a very dog friendly hotel. Gracie was delighted to see all kinds of "woof-woofs" in the lobby, elevator, hallways and out near the pool. I only got one blurry shot of this phenomenon inside the hotel, even though at various times we shared an elevator with a labrador, corgie, and others throughout the weekend.

Most of our weekend was spent just relaxing and catching up with our friend Eddie. We did find out that the hotel not only offered roll away beds, but also toddler beds and cribs! We got a crib for Gracie, and it worked out great. What did not work out great was having all four of us in one room for the entire night.

Mark is not always a quiet sleeper. And Grace is not always a solid sleeper. Combine these two elements and you end up with an infant crying in the dark at 2 am, and a toddler crying in the light at 2:30 am. Ugh.

Obviously, Robert and I did not sleep well, and I ended up holding Mark a good portion of the night so that everyone else could get some sleep. The next morning we had breakfast and packed it in to leave for home. I was exhausted, but thankful I wouldn't have to drive.

Before we said goodbye, we took some pictures with Eddie:

Nice picture, except the man next to me is not my husband.
And those are not his children.

A better picture, except the man on the left is my husband, and the man next to him is not his wife.
We didn't think to ask Eddie to take a picture of our family... I don't know why.

Gracie had fun playing on the giant horse statue at the front of the hotel:

Um, you're not supposed to pick other noses either sweetie.
Guess we'll have to work on that one.

Finally, it was time to head home. I don't know about you, but at the end of any vacation, when it's time to go home I just want to be home. Poof. No driving, flying, or other delays - just get me to my own bed. I was completely exhausted, having had only about an hour of sleep the night before, and was combatting both a headache and stomachache (probably stemming from the fact we'd only had restaurant food since Saturday morning).

Thankfully, Gracie made it through the mountains just fine on the way home. Unfortunately, Mark did not. He didn't get car sick, but he decided to start screaming at the top of his lungs on the way down the mountain. We can only guess that his ears were bothering him.

Gracie was not impressed.

Once we were back on the valley floor, not only did Mark continue to scream, but as lunchtime approached we found ourselves on the road with the nine million other Californians that live here. Welcome to an hour delay with a screaming infant - just what every parent hopes for:

Ironically, Eddie and I had been talking about something similar just that morning. We were talking about having sleep deprivation, being stuck in a small space, not having enough to eat, and the sounds of a loud, screaming infant in the background.

Only he was talking about torture techniques used on prisoners.

Once we got through traffic we stopped so I could feed Mark, and daddy could take Gracie to the potty (of course). Mark still cried for another 20 minutes until finally, he fell asleep. When we got back home, we made sure to tell everyone how much fun it was, and even that we were considering going back next year.

Without the kids.