Thursday: Home Again, but barely

I really miss my blog when I am away from it.  There is something about recanting your daily experiences in a way that pokes a bit of fun even at the bad parts that makes my life seem jocular and pleasant like a sitcom.  Sometimes my days feel like a bitter and frustrating hybrid of a soap opera and Shakespeare (because I use fancy words like "jocular") full of gnashing teeth, stifled f-bombs (because I have a two year old) MURDEROUS thoughts and diapers, so so many diapers.

But you'll have that.  Did I mention that while Ivan and I were packing to go to Sonoma, I tripped over a wheeled apparatus that Ivan was pushing around the house so violently that my fake toenail (glamour toes!!!!) pushed back and cut the top of my foot and the impact bruised my actual toenail and my entire big toe became swollen?  Did I glue my glamour toenail right back on top of that train wreck toe situation?  Yes, I did, because vanity trumps pain, agony and the type of intense frustration that caused Van Gogh to cut off his own ear.  It's funny now, right?, but let me tell you that at the time Van Gogh's frustration was nothing compared to my mental state, and it was not funny at all.  AT ALL.

Anyway, on to the rest of our trip.  It really was lovely.  I had great sushi, fun lunches, a lot of frozen yogurt (though nothing compares to the routine and dearness of Yogurt World), and so many beach trips.  When my sister-in-law dropped us off at the San Francisco airport to head home, Ivan and I gamely made our way with a carry-on, car seat, handbag, and new back pack with a myriad of toys for the trip. Ivan was walking on his leash and I was staggering under the weight of everything else.  Once to our gate, it turned out that the Dallas airport was closed due to some catastrophic weather event and our flight was delayed from a 2:55 PM departure time to a 5:30 PM departure time to Dallas.  From there we had to fly to Nashville.  Our projected arrival time in Nashville was 12:30 AM if they opened the Dallas airport.

Disaster, friends.  I had sweat dripping in a river down my back, nowhere to lock Ivan down, and what looked like a night to spend in the airport.  Ivan eventually completely melted down and threw a toy train directly at a wheel chair occupant before screaming (as if being murdered). It was bleak.  When we finally boarded our plane, Ivan roamed the aisle and the finally settled down to watch a bit of his movie on his portable DVD player.  The portable DVD player weighs approximately one ton, and I had to heave it along in the carryon so that Ivan could spend 1 of our total 12 hour flight time on this trip watching it.

I feel downright desperate when I think of my longing to discard that anvil in a waste can at airport security, but not me, I keep trudging along in my leopard wedges as if Anna Wintour is going to pop over from Delta and say "lovely shoes with that frock, and by the way, job well done with the portable DVR with a weight like lead and a padded generic nylon case."

"Also, Betsy Sloan, I love the way you have paired your husband's old camping backpack from Outward Bound (as a carry on) with a sweaty tunic top over now moist and  filthy leggings."

"Is that the scent of apple juice that your son spit at you combined with a whiff of dirty diaper? Just lovely, like spring in Calcutta!!"

"And do my eyes deceive me, or are you dragging along a pashmina that you have been wearing all week with a lovely palette of stains from curry sauce, mexican food, and a bit of chocolate?"

Why do I try????  WHY??  Public air transportation is practically third world living conditions. It is possible to be cool when traveling solo, but flying with a two year old requires giving up.  It is the only way.

ANYWAY, our plane touched down in Nashville at 1:15 AM.  I was in bed by 2:45 AM.  Brutal!!