As I’m writing this, Mary and I are sitting in the Seattle airport waiting for our red-eye flight to George Bush Houston-tinental Whatever Airport, where we’re be long enough to eat and pee and get on the plane to our real destination – home.
Well, our REAL destination is wherever J-Man is. Her parents are bringing him to meet us at the airport when we arrive, about nine hours from when I’m writing this. We’ve missed him terribly over the past three days – to put it mildly – even though I’ve felt less mental about it than I thought I would.
Every child under age five we’ve seen has reminded us of him. (Mary just ‘awww-ed’ at a child going by us at the gate…) It’s been hard seeing other parents with their kids out traveling, but we’ve gotten through it well enough. Besides, there’s no way in this world he would have lasted more than a few minutes on a plane.
We’ve called home a couple of times a day to check in on J-Man, who – according to Grammy – has done swimmingly well. So either, 1) he’s been doing swimmingly well, or 2) she’s trying to reassure us while he’s swinging from the furniture and frothing from the mouth. For the sake of our own sanity, we’ll assume it’s the former until proven otherwise. 
We had a great time at The Wedding – Part Deux, even though it was downright tropical by Seattle standards (upper 80s) and no one here has air conditioning. Luckily, we wore guayaberas for the wedding, which are worn in tropical climates for an important reason – they are loose, breathable, and very comfy when it’s hot. The happy, twice-united couple should be off in Hawaii by now drinking in the sun, sand, and alcohol. Meanwhile, we have a lot of laundry to do when we get home.
We had fun visiting with Mary’s best friend’s family, too. We all went to high school together, frighteningly enough. Special thanks to their kids for de-aging us a few years by getting everyone in the Ford Focus POS rental to headbang to whatever was playing on their scary phones while I was also trying to dodge dead Raccoons-of-Unusual-Size roadkill and follow their mom to the pizza place. They should also get bonus points for attempting to teach me how to play Guitar Hero, which by the way seems to have set off a wave of arthritis in me after failing badly at playing Metallica. My dork score was off the scale there.
I think the lesson here is that it really is good to get away and get a break for a few days. Mary and I have enjoyed being together as just us, crappy plane seats and all. I’ve missed us just being an ‘us’.
We’re probably idiots for flying overnight back to Charlotte and then driving three hours home instead of going 45 minutes to Mary’s parents’ house, sleeping, and trying it again tomorrow, but we just want to get home. I want to sleep in my own bed for once. It’s been nearly a week. Most of all, we just want to see our kid. Of course, we’ll probably go bat-crazy when he see him and be so full of adrenaline and parenting chemicals that it’ll fuel us all the way home.
More trip post-mortem-ering when we get home. (Gee thanks, Alex. Have some Chap Stick. )
We’ll be back to normal programming soon, I hope.
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Why you are welcome.