This has been a busy month. For whatever reason, it didn’t occur to my husband and I that three back to back to back weekends out of town might just kick the stuffing out of us.
First weekend was a birthday trip for me minus our little diaper wearing friend. So there was trip prep work, but overall was a relaxing time. Second weekend, we whisked ourselves and her off to Portland to visit our new nephew for a one night visit. My husband was an incredible mule through the airport as we attempted to not check our trillion bags for an overnight stay. Great to see them and the new baby, but no naps were had, and we came home with one cranky girl. Third weekend, the three of us trekked off to a wedding in Denver. Again, no naps were had and we let the little creature boogie down on the wedding dance floor until late at night. We were already pretty much screwed with the no nap in two days, so we figured we’d just go with it.
Fast forward to the airport. We returned our rental car to take a shuttle to the airport to stand in a security line that I can only compare to Disneyland without the end thrill of actually getting on a ride, to taking the train inside the airport to our terminal to run through the terminal as our flight was already boarding. No time for a snack, diaper change or bottle of milk, and this is where my husband and I parted ways as I was headed home and he was headed to LA for a few days. As I haul my 28 pound exhausted toddler in one arm, my weighted down diaper bag slung over my shoulder, and our ridiculously awkward Britax in my other arm, I lumbered towards the plane. I’m pretty sure my husband was skipping through the terminal with a look of freedom on his face.
To all the lucky people on my flight, if you were on the left hand side of the aisle, I’m pretty sure I whacked you in the head with my diaper bag, and I’m sorry. If you were on the right hand side of the aisle, I definitely knocked you out with our Britax, and my apologies to you too.
I think we’ll stay home this weekend.