September 21, 2007
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Day One–4.5 Hours in a Speeding Bullet
I’m the kind of person who likes to hear the bad news first. I like to eat my least favorite foods on my plate first. I like setting job goals for myself. Because I love getting to bask in the good news. I love savoring that last delectible bite of dessert, and I love curling up for a good book after I’ve met my goals for the day. Well, fortunately for me, that’s exactly how our trip to California and Megan’s wedding started out. Bad news first.
It’s not that we missed our plane or anything. We were right on time. We got up early, everybody was dressed to match (so we wouldn’t lose anybody at the airport–clever excuse, eh?), and we were at the airport with all our lovely brown matching luggage and one perfectly-fine non-matching garment bag with plenty of time to spare.
No, the bad really didn’t happen until we got on the plane. Mind you, we were all seated together. All five of us. On three purchased seats. FOR FOUR HOURS AND EIGHTEEN MINUTES. Mind you. During nap time. Need I say more? I think I will.
Anna Kathryn wore a pull-up. She’s potty trained, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Not to worry, however, She asked at least once an hour of our four hour and eighteen minute flight if she could go to the bathroom. I was so proud of her. Then she would (every time) stare at the little potty and screach that it was not clean enough, then squeal in terror when it flushed. Not that I blamed her. I brace myself and take stock of all stray fingers, hands, and legs when that thing flushes. I swear the air pressure on the whole plane changes.
The boys did great. They smiled at everybody. People whispered about there being “two of them!” Yes, I said to myself as I walked a sleepy infant up and down the aisle singing “mommy loves you” while holding a blanket over his head. I dressed them alike so you would all ooh and ahh over the idea of twins and perhaps ignore the fact that I have brought not one, but two sleepy infants onto this plane with you.
After getting Thing One to sleep, I handed him over to John, and rescued Thing Two from the helpful grandmotherly lady he’d passed him off to. While I walked a stubborn Thing Two to sleep with one atrophied arm and another one getting there, John woke Thing One up and couldn’t find “the touch” to get him back to sleep. He complimented me profusely on my ability to knock my kids out in an effort to diffuse my frustration at having gone to all that work for nothing. The sweet older lady took Thing One for a while. I wouldn’t let go of Thing Two until he’d fully completed his nap, which meant that we now had about an hour left into the flight, Thing One was now way past his naptime AND hungry, and I was starting to see spots myself. John just kept taking AK to the bathroom. And feeding her snacks. And turning on more movies with the ipod movie player he bought me last Christmas. The stewardesses–gah, flight attendants, sorry–were slightly astonished that we would let a stranger help us with our child. But since they hadn’t offered themselves… then one of them justified our actions for us–”after all, it’s not like anyone can actually ‘go anywhere’ with them!” Right. If I’d thought the sweet little old lady could actually run off with my child I’d never have let her help me. Thank goodness we were on a plane!
So the flight was long. But then it was over and we were there. We gathered up our luggage without mishap, and I gratefully sent John and AK along to get our rental while I found a corner of baggage claim to corral the boys while we waited. And waited. For another three hours. When the rental situation was finally sorted out, we gratefully headed out of San Francisco for Chico. Right in the middle of rush hour traffic. Where we sat for an hour. We finally arrived at our hotel twelve hours after having left our cozy little house, and my mom and sisters rushed over to see us. Well, to see the babies. I realize that I am in the camel stage of my life. I carry the people and the baggage, and hold water for long periods of time until I get a chance to go to the potty myself. The people being my lovely children upon whom their aunts, uncles, and grandparents shower attention. It’s okay. I would rather not be noticed right now anyway. This camel has officially lost her figure.
Grandma loved feeding her grandbaby for the first time since their first month of life. Those white poles behind the bed are the boys’ cribs. I can’t tell you how many times people asked us if we brought those with us. The idea of bringing two non-foldable, metal bar cribs on our flight with us was so preposterous we had to sit openmouthed a couple times swallowing choice words before explaining that no, the hotel provided those. We did have to bring our own car seats, however.
Comments (10)
haha. That sounds familiar. I am still in awe that my parents would take so many little kids to FL every year. Thankfully they had the matching outfits down… lol
WOW
You are a hilarious writer, but I greatly sympathize with your pain. Poor girlie.
Lost your figure? I beg to differ after seeing shots of you on FB.
I think you look pretty fantastic myself. 
Sounds like alot of work. I want to take a nap just from reading this. But I bet it was a great time and filled with great memories.
What an ordeal… I was a nervous wreck with just one kid under 2… can’t imagine 2!
Glad you survived!
You actually got lucky. When ours were that age, Wendy and I took them on a trip up to Washington State. It was a three plane trip, if I remember rightly, and even though we explained the ages of the children when we bought the tickets (directly through the airline) and were assured that it would be no problem for all of us to sit together, once we got on the flight, they made us separate, to opposite ends of the plane. They insisted that there was some sort of regulation about how many kids under a certain age that you could have together in one row. At each transfer, I spent the whole time on the phone with the airline, them insisting that it would be alright, and assigning us seats together, but then the stewardesses (er, I mean flight attendants) would separate us again, once we got on the plane, insisting that the ground crew didn’t know what they were talking about.
Needless to say, Wendy was understandably in tears by the end of the ordeal.
And I agree with Sponge, you look just fine
lol. Glad you found enough humor in the situation to blog about, so we can all enjoy your writing
. My plane trips with Jamie are so horrible I can’t bring myself to write about them yet.
and Jamie feels the same way about airplane toilets that AK does.
What a trip! Hat’s off to you for even attempting a journey like that! I’ve missed ya!
Thanks, Kari. I hadn’t heard that whole story. I don’t think we ever took any plane trips when you were that little. Now I remember why.
“Thing One” and “Thing Two” make your story very funny, indeed. I’m sure you could have said more about their first plane ride, but it was sufficiently understood from a “mamma’s glass” — not really half empty or half full–merely overflowing!
Sure do love and miss you all….HAAAAAAAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY, YOU ADORABLE “THINGS”!