No one told me how immensely challenging it is to have small children. Or maybe they did but I didn’t have the foresight to really understand what they meant.
Actually I think the reason that I felt slightly ill-prepared for the hurdles of having babies and toddlers BECAUSE the people that would have warned me about these years, those perhaps slightly ahead of me in life, were so in the thick of it themselves—transition MIA physically and certainly mentally—that they couldn’t have warned me. And those who have “been there”/”done that” have so forgotten the baby fog and don’t really remember how they survived it. They’ve blocked out everything but the baby pictures, the cute wonderful moments of life where everyone is smiling and wearing coordinating outfits with no stains on them.
Well, that is not really life. And I knew I wanted to have kids, and I remember knowing “it isn’t going to be easy”, but I had no idea it would be to hardest most exhausting thing I would ever tackle in my life. But also the best.
Traveling with children highlights exactly what I am talking about. I remember the days where going on a vacation was full of excitement and anticipation, when I could pack my suitcase with what I wanted, load up my iPod with what I wanted to listen to on the plane, bring books I wanted to read, sit by my husband or whomever I wanted to while traveling and chat to our hearts’ content about anything while drinking whatever I wanted (thankfully that last one is generally still within my rights, not the talking but the drinking). Those days are long gone. Not forever. But for now, and for awhile.
But I will tell you this astounding fact: We made it to Florida. My mom, my husband, my four-year son, two-year-old daughter and two four-month old twins…oh and myself…made it from Portland, Oregon to Orlando, Florida alive. Miracle. The luggage for the seven people listed about also made it from Portland to Florida. That right there amazes me. We are all here in one piece, or seven pieces (aka people) with eleven pieces of luggage (not counting carry-ons).
Now that sounds like a lot: 7-11. But I would like to note that FOUR of our checked bags were carseats. OMG. And thankfully airlines still have decency to not charge you for carseats as “checked bags”. And we flew SW so no bags fly free, so no extra money for each bag. Hooray.
So shall I start at the beginning of how we miraculously made it across the country in seven pieces? Here goes…
