Here we are, at home again, again. And I didn't miss any flights, hallelujah.
I will never forget the spring of 2011 arriving at the gate in Seattle just as the door was closing, pushing a loaded stroller, the baby hanging in the sling in front of me while literally dragging the wailing 3 year old, the 5 year old trotting alongside of us holding on to the stroller. Why Truen wasn't in the stroller I'll never know (or remember).
Or, same flight, at the layover of my re-directed route to Salt Lake City, feeling like an earthquake survivor, yellow baby poo smeared all over my pants (mid-flight poop blow-out), grappling with the aftershock of missing the last three of our four flights and realizing that something in my plan of attack needed some major adjustment. Yeah. It was lovely.
But this time my dad accompanied us to the gate with a pass from "special services". I was jittery while waiting in line the brief few minutes it took to get to the counter for the pass. And though we wouldn't have been late to the gate anyway, it definitely allowed for a more leisurely walk and an extended good-bye. I was so grateful for my dad's presence. (Note to self: do this every time.)
I even got to go to the bathroom all by myself, a rare-known treat these days, to which my dad so hilariously quipped, "I'm a big girl now!" when I told him how surreal it felt as I washed my hands and walked out of the bathroom door completely unharrassed. Oh my . . . it makes me chuckle even now.
Squeeze met us with lots of hugs and happiness at the airport for our 10:50 PM arrival. We got home somewhere between midnight and 1:00 AM and finally simmered down enough for bed-time around 1:45 AM (though that would have been 11:45 PM to our bodies, which had adjusted to Pacific time). The boys ran around, reacquainting themselves with the house and exclaiming how different it looked and how good it felt to be home.
And, LOL, the next day Diego even protested the need for a nap, saying, "but there are so many adventures to have at home now that we are back at our house!" But let the record state: he was sawing logs within minutes of laying down. We were zonked.
It feels good to be home (MN). Being home (WA) was such a good break in the action for me. Re-connecting with roots. Soaking up the green. Leisurely visiting with family. The pleasure of seeing my boys know and love their grandparents and aunts and uncles. Experiencing respite from the "usual grind" and the ensuing feeling of a refreshed perspective on life . . . yes . . . it has been good.
Much love to all.
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