Tired Gaffaws & Fublunders

In an instant of extreme toddler tiredness,

my daughter asked,

if,

“Mommy

Mommy

Mommy

Can I

Can I wear

your….your…..

um…

your hee-highs?”

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I would love to, if they wouldn’t ruin her back

and maybe turn her bony four-year old ankles

into hurting, falling on the floor.

 

 

I love when we, people

and our shorter people

coin the next new hot phrases

out of tired “his-maps”, you know, “miss-haps”?

like when I call Peter and Lori,

“Leter and Pori”.

 

So today,

even though it is a rainy mess outside,

I would very much like to wear

my “hee-highs”

and dissolve into fits of “taugh-ler.”

 

 

 

 

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Storytime in the Air

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By hour number thirteen, I was a little threadbare. We were supposed to be landing in Dulles, but now, a rerouting to Chicago’s O’Hare. All due to the super thick white stuff falling from the air.

So we sat and we sat and the seat belt sign flashed on and off, but mostly on. And at first it seemed we’d be able to deplane and then come back when it was deemed likely we’d fly out-a-there. Talk of Atlantic City, thoughts of me lumbering my boy babe and big girl through the night, into another day. Maybe a motel? Thoughts of us roving airports, lost like a whole tower had gone out. Missing birthdays, feeling lost at sea. Yep, I get desperately dramatic when I am sleep deprived and hungry.

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And then, something amazing happened – something that made every shaky feeling subside. I came back from taking the baby guy to that skinny metallic toilet shack with running-out soap, and saw this:

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One of the flight attendants was sitting, knees under skirt, stockinged legs and tired, perpetually jet lagged feet, reading to my girl. To her. Smiling, engaging, kind, and witty, she read to my K. And I got all wobbly-weak, but with love and gratitude.

And I, too, needed story time. I sat and soaked up their laughter. I got to just BE for a sec. It is not like I was the one flying the plane, but being a mommy show, just after saying bye to my strong and fun hubby for these few weeks, well, something heavy and serious fell away for the minutes I watched someone else loving the heart of my girl.

And then another warm hearted flight attendant came over and we were a party!

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They passed out snack bags and a thing called levity came down like one of those beach balls in an outdoor concert in Miami. It’s called an exhale and I only notice my exhale if I’ve been holding my breath for a while. Phoowaaah.

We pulled from our white sandwich bag apples KT called, ”beautiful like in Snow White,” the welcome-home from thin greasy potato chips, dark chocolate Mmmilanos, and some sun-dried tomato bun with parmesan. It doesn’t take too much. We rumpled up wrappers and the last of the apples, and so much of the tired anxiety just came off. My head was on right.

Thirteen plus hours in flight turned into
eighteen plus, but again, at least we had this good breather. My heart reloaded, alongside the plane, as it took in more fuel for the remaining time.

Look what one dear gave me. Such treasure for our little bag of momentos.
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There is more to say, but later, maybe. I am enjoying being here. And, oh yeah, I am nursing a serious case of round the clock nursing from some family jet lag. Who’s reading to us next?