Alabama Ramblin's

As you might have gathered, I took the children to Alabama for the arrival of my newest niece.  Since a 14-hour drive didn't seem like a fun plan for the day, I took them by air {Little Guy used his frequent flier miles!}.  And since the Mister couldn't get away from work, I took them by myself.  

It was my boldest move to date.  

Below is the evidence that we did, in fact, all arrive, each with every last one of our body parts and me, with at least half my mind still intact.

 BUT...you know there's more to the story than that, right?

Let me hit the high points:

1. Finding, upon our earlier than necessary arrival, that the line for the ticket counter zigged and zagged and wrapped and curled its way down the entire length of the airport and back.

2. Standing in aforementioned line so long that Baby Girl came due for a nursing.

3. Nursing Baby Girl while s-l-o-w-l-y winding our way through the snaking line.  You know, that time when nobody has anything to do but stare at the people they're passing.

4. Hearing final boarding for our flight called as we near the front of the ticket counter line.

5. Being awarded a spot on the standby list for a later flight.

6. Having TSA insist that our stroller be put through the X-ray machine, despite it jamming at least four times.

7. Forgetting to remove my shoes after attending to all the possessions and herding my tiny troops through the metal detector.

8.  Being sent back to do it all over again.  {Everyone loved us by this point.}

9. Attempting to kill half a day in an airport with three small children, without getting them killed.

10. Discovering that--if standby works out--what was to be a direct flight will now be a two-leg flight with a tight connection.

11. Learning that, due to the tight connection, there won't be time to retrieve the stroller from gate check.

12. Securing the last three seats on the plane, only to be greeted by the flight attendant at the bottom of the jet bridge with a lovely, "You have got to be kidding me."

13. Standing at the front of the plane, while the flight attendant announces over the intercom, "I have a passenger here with two children and an infant.  She needs an entire row.  I am really sorry, but three of you are going to have to give up your seats."

14. Having no one volunteer.

15. Blushing as the pilot takes over, telling the passengers, "We are begging you.  She needs a whole row.  Three of you are going to have to move."

16. Taking the seats offered up, buckling in, and then cringing as the whole plane erupts in applause at takeoff.

17. Running, infant in front carrier, toddler on hip, older toddler in hand, through the airport to make the second flight.

18. Taking a second potty-trip-for-four to the airplane bathroom.  {We could just barely close the door.}

19. Buckling a toddler's seatbelt for the 632nd time.

And the one that really tops them all...

20. Doing the whole thing in reverse tomorrow.

It can ONLY be better.

And it was worth it, regardless.

Our Alabama trips are so much fun.  I usually spend the first week or so just enjoying family time, and then have a few whirlwind days of visiting with friends.  This trip went just that way.

My sister-in-law was brave enough to have the family over, just 5 days post-partum, for a joint birthday party for Buddy Boy and his twin cousin, who is just a week younger than he.  It was a great time.

We spent a lot of days with Mama at the pool, soaking up the last of summer.  Buddy Boy pretty much lived on french fries and soft-serve.  Little Guy hunted and smushed every last ant on the pool deck.  And Baby Girl napped in the shade and blew out her diapers twice daily.

We had a little infant lunch date with the new baby of one of my dear friends.  He is the sweetest, most content baby, and I was so excited to get to meet him at last!

I had a couple {un-photographed! for shame!} dinner dates with wonderful friends and loved catching up.  I tested the limits of Baby Girl's allergic tummy with a post-dinner soy milk latte one night, and very much regretted it the next day, when her spit-up was tinted pink.  Lesson sadly learned.

My fabulous college roomie brought her girls to town for an all-day visit, and we had a blast.  She is such an encouragement as a mother and such a sweet friend.  {P.S. I can't wait to put Baby Girl in pink tutu bathing suits.}

Daddy really outdid himself in the grandfather department.  During our visit, he took the boys to a baseball game, to the lake, and to the golf course.  Report from the baseball game was that Little Guy got to have his first-ever Coke [he's had puh-lenty of sips before, but was apparently quite pleasantly surprised when Gaga asked if he wanted one of his very own}.  Report from the golf course was that "most of our balls went in the holes, but one of thems went in the water!  Oh, well!" and that it's hard to keep little boys from playing in sand traps.

I gave the boys haircuts in the backyard and rejoiced all the while that I would not be cleaning a million clippings from the bathroom's tile floor.  They spent the duration of both their haircuts calling for birdies to come retrieve their hairs for nest-building.

 And...drumroll please...we hit TWO developmental milestones in Alabama.

Baby Girl rolled over.  Back to front.  Multiple times. With relative ease.  Even while swaddled.

and

Buddy Boy started talking.  A new word or syllable just about every day.  Lots of new sounds.  Strings of gibberish that I just know will begin to solidify into language.

We've got a lot to share with the Mister tomorrow.