We flew in a plane.
They both had colds.
Des, oddly, woke us at 5:30 in the morning that day. He cried and screamed when I had to hold him, my lap child, during taxi and take off. The first day he had only a twenty minute nap in the car to sustain him through air travel and a trip to the circus. That night both kids woke up about five times each, and I was sharing a room with them.
Parts of the trip really sucked but we kept going and it got better.
Yes, Desmond hollered, protested and wailed for maybe half the flight, but we survived and no other passengers harmed us; though I'm sure they thought about it. Still, despite the auspicious beginning I had a great time. We got to visit one of my dear friends, who is referred to as Auntie Nina around here, and my kids were able to play and get to know with her twin girls. And that was a dream come true.
I am capable. We can do this. We can have adventures. We can bend the rules, cry and scream, and recover.
This might not seem like a revelation to any of you reading this, but it is a big one for me. I tend to be conservative about our adventures. I don't like the kids getting "over" tired. I don't like feeling strained. I don't enjoy losing my patience (the kids don't enjoy me when I lose my patience). On the flip side I don't want to live the same day over and over. I want to experience new places and see loved ones who live far away. I want my children to learn flexibility and how to find their rhythm in new places. I miss living out of a suitcase and living with only today in mind. It was great to get a taste of that again.
It started with Vegas but this is just the beginning.
The kids playing at the airport.