There's no place like home, there's no place like home

Today I will be heading back home to Phoenix with two small kids, one giant suitcase, and two extra bags.

Not bags filled with the oodles of cheapie battery powered noise making toys my Mom picked up for the kids. I managed to leave those at her house.

Not bags stuffed with the wonderful finds I might have managed to scoop up at the endless rows of antique stores in North Georgia. It wasn't that kind of vacation.

Not even bags full of grits or my favorite Atlanta beer, both impossible to find in Arizona. They would be too heavy to carry through the airport along with a carry on, a car seat, and Little Guy in his stroller.

These particular bags aren't that heavy. In fact, these two bags are right under my eyes. My very very very tired eyes. On second thought, maybe they are heavier than the beer and the grits could ever be.

I wonder if I can just check them in curbside?