One More Fist Bump, Baby.

I meant to wake up at 6:30. That was the plan. But the sound of my alarm wove itself right into my dream, and I slept right through it, as if this were any old day – not The Day we had been waiting for. I got up at 7:15. Not a travesty in the realm of preparedness, but not what I had planned.

 

And so began our day of travel.

 

Robb was a very timely, punctual, efficient man. Efficient in every way. Efficiency was a hobby of his, I’m pretty sure. And traveling was a science, the ultimate test in organization and efficiency. If he told me the plan was to leave at 8:00, I eventually learned that the top secret plan, revealed for security clearance only, was to leave at 7:45.

 

Best to be early. (I never was.)

 

Turns out, I’m raising his son, and the morning was very reminiscent of traveling with Robb. Tucker was irate over the delayed schedule.

 

“Mommy, why? Why did you sleep in?”

“I didn’t mean to, buddy.”

“Why didn’t you wake up the first time you heard the alarm?”

“I meant to. That was the plan. And then it just didn’t happen.”

“Why did you stay up all night?”

“I didn’t. I went to bed right after you did.”

“Then why didn’t you wake up?”

“Oh, Tuck, just because I didn’t. It’s called oversleeping.”

“I don’t understand it.”

“I know.”

 

We raced around the house. Scratch that. I raced around the house. Tucker followed me with a moment-by-moment update on what time it was and how late we were and how narrow our margin had become.

 

I sit here on the plane, absolutely incredulous that we made it here in three hours. Everyone took their medication(s), we took Max to his version of Puppy Camp, navigated airport traffic, and traveled through security like total professionals at this traveling gig, as if this isn’t our maiden voyage in the world of traveling with Mom on a business trip. We even had time for pancakes and Sprites at McDonalds.

 

(The idea of pancakes and Sprite makes my mouth tingle a little bit, but whatever. I choose my battles.)

 

The only thing I forgot are headphones. So, a big fat kudos to the people around me who are allowing minimal volume in our row as the boys watch Tom & Jerry and The Three Stooges. No, seriously. Thank you.

 

2 boys.

1 mom.

1 nanny *extraordinaire.* (G.)

4 suitcases.

4 backpacks.

1 Nikon.

2 laptops.

4 movies.

6 iProducts.

7 items of reading material.

732 snacks.

Boarded and ready for lift-off.

 

An unbelievably smooth transition. A complete success. G and I keep reaching across the aisle to give each other victorious fist bumps. Seriously, give me another bump, G. We kicked it.

 

You would think we just won the Amazing Race.

 

We kind of did.

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One thought on “One More Fist Bump, Baby.

  1. I know where Robb got (or at least honed) his efficiency. Our motto in the OSUMB was “to be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, to be late is to be left.” And leave you they would!

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