Being home is fun.
Take, for instance, the bonding, the “face time” that you get when sitting next to your big sister, also updating her blog. On warring laptops. It’s this kind of togetherness that warms the cockles of my heart. So does her blog. [ www.grant-wishes.com ] Also, what’s a cockle? Is it like a ventricle? Do those need warming? Discuss.
So. New England. The holidays. The holiday TRAVEL. The holiday travel over-packing. Why does Nora need her own full size suitcase? She barely has hands, does she really need multiple mittens? Let alone four different blankets? (Nap, bedtime, travel and play? Okay, fine. Yes.) I was worried about taking her through the airport and the crazy amount of time it would take to prove that she was under the age of two (an actual airline concern) and that she wasn’t concealing anything under her pointy elf hat.
However, from the moment we stepped outta the car for curbside check-in to the moment we got to the gate: 25 minutes. And for all of the hilarious moments I was PLANNING to blog about concerning a traveling infant? They never occurred. Smooth sailing. (Damn you, Midway efficiency!) When we got to the airport, I expected a madcap scramble to check the bags. Nope. There were five people in line ahead of me and they oohed over Nora’s Santa hat (as planned- never underestimate the benevolence that holiday-esque newborns evoke.) P.J. had to park the car, leaving me with Nora in a sling, a carry-on bag, and a piece of luggage in each hand. Something hilarious HAS to happen here, right? A skycap took my bags and wished Nora a happy and safe flight. Hmm.
Tickets in hand, we got into the Family & Medical security line (this hurt my soul, personally. I have been an Expert Traveler for as long as the term has existed.) I planned on hanging out, screaming child stuck to me, for at least three hours. Five minutes later, I removed my boots and carried a sleeping baby through security. (I DID have to remove her from her sling and they DID have to squeeze the tip of her hat- I removed the baby sized derringer moments before.)
Carried her to the gate, preparing for a crushing crowd of irate travelers. I was guided to a comfy seat and was soon regaled by VICTORIAN CAROLERS. They called Nora “darling” and “so Christmassy.” They were correct.
The flight was delayed, due to the lateness of our flight crew. Okay, NOW it was gonna get ugly, right? An hour later, Nora was still sleeping and the arriving flight crew was APPLAUDED. We boarded in the family section (Group A and half, baby!) and settled into the easiest, quietest flight in the history of Southwest Airlines.
That’ll teach me to travel during the holidays.
And now, a slice of Christmas Eve afternoon in the Flynn household of Pittsfield, Massachusetts:
Emily and P.J. walk back into the house from running errands in my mother’s car. Emily informs my mother that Peej filled the tank on the way home.
“He didn’t have to do that,” my mother exclaims, full of Christmas spirit towards her second son-in-law.
“The light was on,” Emily says.
“Oh. I guess maybe he did.”
Laughter abounds in the living room, and a few chuckles are heard in the kitchen as well.
“Don’t put that in the blog,” my mother scolds me.
Rachel dances into the room, singing ‘Police Navidad.’ P.J. hands me a Ritter Sport candy bar, under the guise of getting me a treat at Target. He’s just biding his time until he can gracefully steal it back. Emily is eating something unidentifiable and commenting harshly on reality television. I think my Mom just asked if something was Rachel’s “personal seltzer.” It may have been seltzer. There’s a very good chance that “Chasing Liberty” will be played for the second time in 24 hours. Nope. It’s “White House Christmas.” Much more holiday-appropriate. Kate is still blogging her “daily updates.” She’s up to December 21st. My daughter is sleeping in my mother’s arms- my mother asked if kissing Nora would wake her. Yes. She kisses her anyhow. (The baby has recently been bathed. This is powerfully magnetic.) Tom has walked through twice in his runner’s tights. He doesn’t like when we call them tights. Em just said something unrepeatable about a Christmas tree on TV. Quinn and Cole are still sleeping upstairs, after an hour long battle with their beds, each other, and Auntie Rachel (the turning point- “Auntie Rachel, I like your nose.”)
“Don’t put the thing about gas in there. I mean it.”
And tonight we put out our first presents from Santa Claus, ever. Does this mean that I’m officially an adult? Or just Santa?
Nora has been so good and we can’t wait to spoil her with presents.
Hint- One’s a large stuffed otter.
As three-year old Jack tells me- “Sleep in heavenly peas. Like the kind in your macaroni.”
(Merry Christmas!)
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