I'm Baaaaaack...

And we are home. Yay for all that severely missed us, namely, Jeff. We missed him, too, so it's a happy ending. I will say this: "I will NOT fly on a plane for the next couple of years, minimum. At least until I've forgotten the travel part of this trip". I had to add the quotes for the severity of my statement. I've never been more frustrated, more ready to murder my children, and more ticked off at an organization. When one pays massive amounts of money, you'd expect a little back. Not with the airline industry, I'm afraid. Luckily, my mom and Scott flew us up there, as I would have never been able to afford it, but I still felt like I was going to lose it with everyone around me, regardless of not having to fork out the big bucks. After every flight, and there were four, of being either canceled or drastically delayed, I was done. With everything. And guess what? Riley and Cole decided to make it as difficult as they possibly could. Do you know how much airport food is? Especially when you're stuck with two picky eaters and no snacks, because you were told you had a four hour maximum of waiting around for the flights and getting to our destination? Well, I didn't realize how much it would be, either, and that four hours turned into about ten. Both my children know how to milk sympathy; I'm pretty sure it's one of my divine traits they inherited. So yesterday, after we found that we'd be delayed for a couple hours, again, we went to find a cheap snack. But no, my children were SO hungry, and SO tired of walking, they started crying...smelling hot dogs at some grill-place, saying they were starving, and they'd been walking all day; instead of flying like we were supposed to be. Embarrassed because I was getting the "lady, feed your kids and tell them to shut up" look, I told them we would buy lunch. (Mind you, this whole production is in addition to all the whining, and fighting that was continuous throughout the day). Two seven dollar hot dogs and three dollar fries later, we were trying to find a place to sit. My children were so hungry that they started to eat...only to notice that the grill place had split the hot dog down the middle when they cooked it. The audacity! Who does that? Then Riley found that there was no honey mustard. So even though she begged through tears for fries as well, she couldn't eat them, because, without honey mustard, it's apparently impossible. Cole ate all his fries but didn't want his hot dog, because it was cooked "wrong". So when I wasn't looking, he dumped his meal in the recyclables bin, and Riley asked if she could do the same.
I'll admit, I didn't answer that question with greatest of patience, and as I laid into Riley and Cole both for making me spend money on crappy food, that they wouldn't even eat, I noticed I was being watched open-mouthed by a couple seated across from us. At that moment, I realized that I was that mom...the one that beats her bratty kids in Wal-Mart. The one that, yeah, has those kids that you wish would just shut up, but when she does something about it, it's about a bazillion times more awkward than you imagined it could be. And instead of feeling satisfied with the quiet, you worry about those kids going home with that lady because surely she's mentally unstable and their little bodies are covered in bruises. So I stopped and took a deep breath, put a movie on my computer and tried to calm down while my children were content to watch Casper.
My point is, even though I am pregnant and was tired and pissed and impatient, I have to learn to relax. I have to be better for Riley and Cole. They were just as agitated as I was, and I'm sure that if they yelled at me every time I was being annoying....well, it would happen quite often. Thankfully, being an adult I can avoid that possibility. Until they're teenagers. Maybe. So, all in all, Riley, Cole and I are so grateful to be home. We had lots of fun, (Thanks Mom and Scott!), but it's nice to be able to have a place where we can all go to have time for ourselves, and not have to depend on something else, no matter how incopentant it may be, to get us there. (Aka, the airline--as I'm trying to wrap this post up, and noticed it's kind of gone all over the place). So, goodnight to you all, and don't worry, my children's bruises are all in the obvious places, as now they mostly are dressing themselves, and so I can't hide anything. I'm totally kidding. Promise.