A Long Trip Home

A tale of misadventure and redemption, of misfortune and rescue! A tale of traveling with two tiny children all alone.
To make things "easier" in DC, I rented a car.  But see.  When I went to return the car, the "return spot" was in the middle of a desolate garage.  I pulled in, both of my babies sleeping under the weight of brand new fevers in the back, looked around, and tried to decide between laughing a crying.
Imagine, if you will, me and my high-heeled boots, crossing the loooong deserted tundra of a december parking garage while hauling-seriously try to picture it it's ridiculous- hauling a small red suitcase.  A HUGE fat green one with a broken wheel (thanks Delta), TWO carseats, a shoulder bag, and TWO sick babies.  Do not picture me doing it with one of those handy cart things, or an assistant, or even a small Mexican burro. Just me.
Any ideas I had of being pulled together or maintaining any sort of outward dignity were crushed under the smashed wheel of that infernally heavy luggage.  It took us a good half hour to get to the elevator.
Just in case you were wondering about the state of chivalry in the current age, I will mention that I toiled my way past three able-bodied gentlemen who sat in their parked, heated cars watching or rushed by without making eye contact.  One even bumped into me, knocking a carefully perched car seat and causing the whole pile to crash over, without even slowing down.
There I was, a beast of burden, lamenting the downfall of humanity, Peanuts, the downfall! When a sympathetic employee offered to take my paperwork down the staircase for me to check out the car.  Chivalry lives in middle-aged women, apparently.  And also the dude with shiny heeled boots, Armani shirt buttoned down to show off the bling and the chest hair, who helped me off the shuttle and to the check in counter.  Bless every red little hair on his chest.
And then, after toting my lighter load to security, I did the thing with the shoes and the jackets and the ipad and the liquids and the bags and then got specially selected- oh goody!- for a search, and as I went to walk through the metal-detector, Little One crying because She was already through and they would not let me get to Her, the security guy said, "you might want to take your car keys out of your pocket".  
 My car keys.
My rental car keys.  20 minutes until our flight was departing.
And I just stood there holding the wiggly baby, as Little One attempted to climb my right leg, looking stunned.
I am not proud of being a damsel in distress. But that day, I certainly was.  And this time, my knight came in the form of the great big 7ft man who offered to take them back for me.  Bless him too.
We barely made it to our flight. 
The one with the water pouring down from the ceiling.  The one that got delayed, and then cancelled and then -wait! we fixed it!-uncanceled and then delayed and canceled and uncancelled again.
We were stuck on the plane while they tried to fix it- back open to the chilly rain, no access to the bathrooms, when Little One, a good 102 degrees by then and having waited for 2.5 hours, said the words every toddler mom stuck on a plane fears.  "Mommy.  I pee-peed".  
At any rate, we got our connecting flight re-booked, we finally took off, and we landed at the exact minute-what are the chances?!- our new connecting flight took off.  It was the last one.

Miss fell asleep exactly 6 minutes before landing

Little Miss was wearing Her last. Diaper.  Why in h-e-youknowwhat don't airports sell diapers?!
We were offered a hotel room but told we wouldn't have our suitcase (with the clothes and toothbrushes and DIAPERS) and would be waking up in less than 5 hours to catch the morning flight. 
So instead, we flew into a neighboring town and poor J drove an hour and a half in the middle of the night to pick us up. 
Our luggage was lost. We got into bed around 2am.  But (after 14 hours) we made it. 
After that day, and this trip, and the one right before it which is a whole other story, you will understand, my darling friend Lordy, won't you, why when you sent me a message proposing we change our planned girls trip in March to a trip to Disney with my kids, I didn't answer. 
Sometimes, no answer is better than "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"
That's all.