Thursday, June 25, 2009

Utah or Bust

My brother says that sometimes we have bad days just so we have good blogging material. We are now in Utah but it was a miracle -- like Moses-parting-the-Red-Sea-type-miracle.

We planned to leave three hours early for our flight. On the way we planned to stop of at my brother's apartment to pick him up so he could drop us off at the airport. He only lives a few minutes from the airport.

Right away we knew traffic was bad. Like really bad. After an hour we had only gone a few miles. After two hours we started to get really stressed, but traffic was starting to pick up a little. We had 45 minutes until takeoff when we rolled into my brother's parking lot. He hopped in and we thought for sure we'd make it. However, we didn't expect to sit on Airport Road for 50 minutes. Let me run the calculations for you: Our flight was to depart at 6:25 and we arrived at the airport at 6:30.

In the meantime, we made three calls to the airline to check if our flight was running on time. We were told it was and even though we were stuck in the worst traffic jam known to man a mere .5 miles from the terminal, we were encouraged by the customer service folks to try to make it.

Also in the meantime, Buddy decided he had to go to the bathroom. Bad. We were stuck on the road, so not only did we have no time for a pit stop, but we had nowhere to stop anyway. So after a few panic attacks and some yelling, crying, and negotiating, we finally convinced him to open up the door and pee out of the car onto the street. He still hasn't gotten over that trauma.

As soon as we arrived at the airport at 6:30, G sprang from the car and ran right up to the front of the line at the airline counter. The woman rudely told him that even though he was missing his flight, he needed to get in line. I left my brother and the kids in the car at the curb to run inside to find out what G was working out. I was super annoyed to see him at the end of a moderate-long line.

I returned to the car and shortly after I arrived I noticed a teenage girl in a car behind me honking up a storm. She was gesturing for me to move forward, so I inched a little bit forward SUPER annoyed because let's get real here: I had no more patience left. And why in the world did she need me to inch forward? Then, to make matters worse, she moved from the curb and pulled right up along side of me AND STARTED TO UNROLL HER WINDOW. Poor girl had no idea what was coming next. I unrolled my window and she started to tell me I can't park there and so of course I followed up by asking her if she works there, who made her in charge of where I park, etc, etc, etc. She started to get flustered and said she just wanted me to pull forward so she could get out of the pedestrian lane, then peeled off before she had a chance to get more of my wrath.

Meanwhile Buddy was in the backseat upset to the point of tears that he was no longer taking an airplane to his vacation, as he put it.

Just when I thought hope was lost, G came tearing out of the airport with an airline employee trailing behind (interestingly enough, the same lady who told G to wait in line). A few seconds earlier when he got to the front of the line, the employee checked the flight and for some unknown reason, the flight had not yet departed. We dashed into the airport and employee quickly checked our bags and sent us on our way telling us she'd take care of the rest after we left. Poor woman broke her back to get us on that flight. She warned us three times that our bags wouldn't make the flight, but that was the least of our concerns. Have you ever heard of an employee helping get bags out of the car? Even though G was cursing her name, I thought she was awesome.

When we arrived at the security screening there was a line, of course, so G talked with the attendant at the express/business lane and told him we were missing our flight. He kindly let us through, but we still had the routine of emptying pockets, taking off shoes, folding the stroller, etc. When we got through security, G suggested I sprint to the gate to try to hold the plane while he gathered the kids and followed behind. I have to say it's been a long time since I've ran that fast. When I got to the gate, to my utter astonishment, people were still waiting in line to board the plane. So since we were traveling with children, we were able to walk right onto the plane. No one was able to explain why the plane was delayed. That's why I call this a miracle.

It took the entire plane ride for all of us to decompress. The kids were outstanding, though. Buddy looked out the window and commented on all the natural landmarks all along the way. I had no idea we were going to fly over the Gobi Desert (Idaho) or the Arctic (the salt flats) -- and either did he, apparently. It was a very exciting flight. Then every time we tried to tell Sambo we were on an airplane, he'd say "oooh" and point to the ceiling of the plane. Because every baby knows you point straight up when someone mentions an airplane. So even though we were famished because we had to eat an early lunch so we could all be ready for our flight, we all did OK.

We finally arrived, got our rental car and made our way out of the airport at 10:30 PM. Just in time to wheel into one of our favorite hamburger joints before it closed for the night.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Free At Last

Sambo lining up his busy social schedule -- 18 months

Sambo attended nursery at church today for the first time. This is a huge right of passage for Mormon parents because it means the parent actually gets to listen to church for the first time since the child was born. I'm in primary, so I don't really get to benefit from this glorious day. But to be really honest with you, I haven't seen G so happy in a long time, so I guess I did get to benefit (if you know what I mean). G is serving up pie in celebration as I type, as a matter of fact.

When G dropped Sambo off, he considered opening up the door a crack and giving him a swift kick through the door, then running away before the teachers could see who the lovely child's father was.

But he decided to give them a heads-up about Sambo's milk issues, and the fact that he doesn't know how to share, thinks he's the center of the universe, and would probably eat all the other kids' snacks. The teachers apparently said, "Oh, all kids are like that."

But when G arrived two hours later to pick him up, apparently Sambo had so much fun he refused to make eye contact with his daddy. He DID NOT want to go home.

And then the teachers admitted he did in fact eat all the other kids' snacks. (As a side note, Buddy's nursery teachers are now our best friends because of the bond we formed over funny Buddy nursery stories. Buddy also used to eat all the other kids' snacks. What is wrong with our kids? I swear I feed them all the time!)

They didn't mention anything about his inability to share. They probably didn't want to come off too hard on him his first week.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Pets

Buddy and a few of the neighborhood kids spent the afternoon collecting "pets" yesterday. All-in-all Buddy collected 11 salamanders and 2 frogs that are now living in a bucket on our patio. Buddy is so excited because his parents are too mean to allow pets in the house, so this is a nice compromise. He provided a safe* habitat including water, rocks, sticks and plenty of leaves for the pets in the bucket.

*By safe I mean, safe from animal predators since he went outside no fewer than 300 times today to check on them and hold them all. A few already have passed away, I assume from too much Buddy love, if you know what I mean.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

If you Like Music, This Video is for You

I'm on a small committee in charge of a regional adoption conference in November. We'll have adoption caseworkers and adoptive couples and birth mothers in attendance from the entire western United States. It's going to be a really big deal and I'm supposed to be working on plans now... except I have a smaller one (for just our area) I'm solely in charge of this weekend that's been taking all my time. So in the meantime another gal lined this guy up to perform at the conference. Please watch the video. It's several minutes long but so enjoyable -- you will not be disappointed. And if you really like it, in a few months I can give you registration details for the conference.

I'm so impressed with him and I'm so glad I've been too busy to make my own plans because I never would have suggested such coolness for our conference. If the stars align we might have some other big names including former Senator Gordon Smith (who has a heart-wrenching adoption story) and one of my favorite bloggers (who featured yours truly last week -- I'm famous!).

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Oh How I Love Myself a Good Food Court

If you know only one thing about our family, you should know we love Costco. We take many a family outing there and G is always happy to sneak away from work to meet up with the boys and I for lunch/shopping.

I can't even count the many awesome things we've purchased at or through Costco over the years. Our awesome couch pillows, two bed mattresses, our car, AC at our last house, our camera, tickets for Disneyland, my watch, my glasses, our tent, not to mention the groceries and diapers and formula and prescriptions and photo printing. That place is just the coolest.

But the very, very best part of Costco is the food court. G, Sambo and I are totally addicted. I love the pizza, Sambo loves the hotdogs, and G loves it all. Plus, I'm sorry but how can you complain about feeding a family of four for $6.50.


But we've run into a snag lately. Buddy has become a weak link in the Costco experience. He hates the food at Costco. He is not at all a picky eater, but the two things he refuses to eat just happen to be the two things we love most about Costco: pizza and hotdogs. He is not a fan of tomato sauce and ever since people gave him the run-around when he asked what hotdogs are made of, he's refused to eat them (although Costco boasts their hotdogs are all beef -- and don't worry, I've tried to tell him that). Buddy does, however, really like the Caesar salad. Now it's awesome that he likes salad and all, but if we're dining at Costco for pete's sake, why does he need to pick the most expensive item on the menu? Our usual dinner for $6 is now costing us $9. If he's too good for Costco hotdogs, maybe it's time he starts paying his own way.