Monday, August 7, 2017

Day 2,154

The Hurricane Marge 

This is what I looked like today after yesterday was over. Thank goodness that is done with. Mama's not traveling for a while after that one. 

An hour and a half of sitting on the tarmac at ATL - with no air conditioner and no food - due to a malfunctioning door latch, and I was about to lose my mind. This after trekking at least a mile through the Atlanta airport. For Pete's sake, build another airport in Atlanta if THAT many people need to use it. Gee wiz. 

Anyways, my one moment of rest from the insanity prior was almost put into jeopardy by a tiny baby who decided to wake up right as the plane took off and the other kids fell asleep. 


Ah, much better. 
Thank you. 
She's so obedient. She must love me. 
Other children, take note. 

Their nap helped lessen the burden. 

But the insanity didn't even come close to stopping there. 

Not sure if this was a hug or a headlock, but if it were any indication of yesterday, then it was absolutely a headlock. And I just about tapped out. Let me divulge:

I woke up at 8 in order to leave the hotel by 11:30. Worst night of sleep in a long time. I had to say goodbye to Adam (the worst part of my day, and that's saying something) and then finish packing the hotel room. All in all, getting packed up and into the car turned out to actually be the easiest part of our day. The airport was a mad house. So. Many. People. Too many distractions and so, the kids were running and touching EVERYTHING. On multiple occasions, I called them "Dory" and told them "Dory, you're going to lose your Mommy." 

We got to the gate sweaty and hungry, but didn't have time to pick up anything to eat. Fast forward to 4:30 (after sweating profusely during our hour and a half delay on the plane with no A/C) and we were just then getting off the plane. At baggage claim, a woman - who we'll call Marge - decided to step in front of me (while I have Ella Mae strapped to me) and huff and puff at Bearett and Amelia while she pulled her bag off the belt. She gave them all sorts of dirty looks because of where they were standing. Chill please, they're kids. To somehow make a point to me to move my kids out of her way, she decided just to stand in front of me while I went to try to pull my 50lb suitcase (still with Ella Mae attached to me) off the belt. And still wouldn't move when I went to grab the second 50lb suitcase off. So, I said something. And while I'm STILL pulling three more car seats and another suitcase off, all while watching two toddlers and holding an infant, she yells at me that I'm "not the only mom who's traveled with four kids before." Breathe. So many things I wanted to say. SO MANY. And so, I'll say this: if you're at an airport - or anywhere for that matter - and you see a solo mom trying her best to do something, for goodness sakes, don't make her job harder. Please. If her kids are annoying you, guess what? They're probably annoying her too. Either get out of her way or lend her a hand. But don't intiontionally make it harder on her just to make a point. Because your point WILL be lost. And you probably don't have a point anyways. She doesn't have time for games. She has children already, she doesn't need to parent you. 

And so, all dusted off emotionally and ready for the next step, we order an Uber and wait. And sweat some more. Amelia loses her shoe and then loses her mind. Crying. Wailing. We find her shoe, find some cold air, and eat some slices of greasy airport pizza. It was the only option. The Uber drives us to our condo in Miami. We unpack the Uber into my suburban and head upstairs to make some dinner before driving back up North to our home home. We walk into the condo and BAM. A 90 degree sauna smacks us in the face. More sweat. Air conditioner is broken. For the second time in one day. Really? Really? Meanwhile, Amelia is squatting and pooping her pants. Awesome. I rush her to the bathroom to clean the mess and Bearett follows, saying he has to go pee too. So I told him to pee in the bidet behind me while Amelia finishes her poop in the toilet. Next thing I see, water is gushing EVERYWHERE because he decided to turn the handle on the bidet without a butt covering the gushing water. CHILDREN!!!! With both messes cleaned, I called maintenance to come check out our air problem. He comes quickly and declares that he won't be able to do anything until tomorrow. No dinner for us! We pack up and head back down to the car. Now, in Miami, we live in a high rise. You have to use an elevator to go downstairs. While I was throwing Amelia's nasty poop diaper down the trash chute, Bearett decides to push the elevator button, and before I can stop him, he's on the elevator alone while the doors are closing. 4 year old nephew screams ringing throughout the complex. I get the girls immediately onto the next elevator (there's three elevator shafts) and head straight to the bottom. He's not there. Panic begins to rise. Seriously. I'm about to lose it. And him, apparently. After probably the longest 34 seconds of my life, the doors open, and my devastated nephew - who's pants are now soaking wet with pee - runs off the elevator and into my arms. He's in big trouble and he knows it. But he's too scared to discipline at that point, so I let the experience mostly just teach for itself. Pretty sure he'll never step onto an elevator alone again. We finally got into the car (after changing his pants and underwear), and head for a smoothie place. It's Sunday at 7:30. Every single place is closed. We drove to two. Ok. Awesome. I just promised the kids a smoothie since their dinner plans got ruined. Great. At this point, I don't even know how I'm functioning. I put on Jungle Book and drive. But I'm so tired and hungry that there's no way I could've made it all the way home. So we stopped at Whole Foods and got some dinner, grocery shopped, and drove the rest of the way home. Grocery shopping was another nightmare, but that's usually how the story goes anyways, so no need to comment there. You can imagine, I'm sure. 

We finally got home at 10:30 and hit the pillow at midnight. I slept all night and didn't even wake up to change Ella Mae's diaper in the middle of the night. Shame. But now it's over. And for that, I'm thankful. 

Moral of the story: don't be Marge.

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