If we can survive this...

Two weeks ago, Ryan and I packed up and set out on our first trip together, and it was ambitious. We flew to Texas without adult supervision, and neither of us jumped out of the plane at 30,000 feet. It was a miracle.


We depended on the kindness of strangers, and we weren't disappointed. On the trip to Texas alone, I handed Ryan over to no fewer than five strangers while I hustled us through security, onto the plane, off the plane, through DFW airport, onto the plane and off the plane again all while carrying a backpack, a diaper bag and assembling and disassembling his stroller and carseat at each gate.

Those people on the Amazing Race are wussies.



Ryan is not a good plane sleeper, even with generous amounts of Benedryl and breastmilk in his tummy. He's not a good plane eater either, but that wasn't for lack of my trying. Thank goodness the man next to me on the Seattle-Dallas leg was Argentinian and had an open-minded world view, because he saw my breasts. A lot. His name was George (really!) and he was quite amused by Ryan and his single 45 minute nap on a nest below my seat.


Besides George, there was Jamie, Linda, Elaine, Darrell, Sage, a father of three in the security line, and at least two other women who helped me along the way either by carrying a bag or opening a door or rearranging chairs to make room for the stroller. The people I listed by name are the ones that held Ryan a lot, if I needed a meal, a trip to the bathroom or simply a break. They were angels.

Despite not sleeping much, Ryan was great fun. He hardly cried, until the last two hours of the last flight home. And even then, everyone around me assured me it was OK and that I was doing OK. Most of the time he wiggled around to see everything and everyone, played with his squeaky giraffe or just grinned at me.

All of this makes me sure that today, on his first day of daycare, he'll charm the pants off them and love every minute of it.

This time, the tears will be all mine.