The Last Part First

When I finally arrived back home, all the kidlets and Dr. Peds were waiting for me in the airport with gigantic tagboard signs and big smiles on their faces.  It was such a welcome sight, because although I had an AMAZING and wonderful time in California (I have so much to share with you soon) I spent an extra 17 hours delayed in Detroit.  Yes, Detroit.  I have never wanted to go to Detroit.  I told Dr. Peds that flying from California to Detroit to home was a bad idea when we were lining up the airline tickets, but the timing was more convenient, and he was convinced I was being ridiculous.

Unfortunately for me, my packed airplane was slow to land in Detroit, and that left me running from one long end of the airport to the exact opposite corner.  Running.  Running with a very heavy camera bag and a very pregnant belly.  Needless to say, by the time I arrived in the part of the airport I needed to be at, I was gasping, sweating, and hyperventilating in a true panic.  And my plane was long gone.  I don’t think I could have managed to make it under any circumstances, actually.  The lady at the gate looked at me and must have realized I was near tears because she kindly told me it wasn’t the end of the world, and explained carefully exactly where I needed to go to figure out what to do.  So, I can add the experience of missing a flight to my repertoire.  I now know all about it.

After standing in a few long, long lines, and watching some grumpy airline workers deal with extremely irate customers who were absolutely yelling and screaming at them with quite crude language, I ended up staying the night in a hotel and flying home the next afternoon.  I was glad to be rid of airports and airplanes at that point, because to make matters worse, on the flight from California, they checked my carry on bag because I was one of the last people to get on the plane and there wasn’t room for my larger carry on.  So, I spent the night with a book I had already finished and my camera.  No clothes or toothbrush or anything.  The hotel would have been happy to supply me with toothpaste, but the box of toothpaste tubes got locked in an office.  They were even so nice that they sent someone over to a store to buy toothpaste to give me, but the store was out of toothpaste too.  By that time I was so exhausted, what could I do but giggle at my misfortune!

Anyway, back to the signs.  I loved the signs.  It was so good to see the kidlets, and their signs were just so, so them.  Ya Ya’s sign was filled with elegant cursive writing.  She is so excited to start learning cursive writing because her friend who goes to Montessori school has been writing that way for years now.

Mr. Sneaky Pants made a sign that was filled with Roman soldiers defending great cities against ten-headed dragons with leaping, dangerous flames.  He drew a “Roman heart” to show me that he loves me, and wrote all over the sign in “Roman language” about how he missed me.  Of course I can’t read the interesting “Roman letters” because I don’t speak that language, so he had to do some translating for me.

Inspired by her big sister, The Banana made her own sign with pre-emergent loopy writing that clearly spells “Mama Rachel,”  or so I’m told.

Stay tuned for lots of pictures and stories about my adventures in the sun.