Have you ever tried getting a full night’s sleep on a four hour cross country flight with a wriggly toddler sitting on your lap?
I don’t recommend it.
It’s not the most restful thing in the world. Especially when the airplane air vent thing is blowing in your face, but you can’t reach it because the toddler has finally fallen asleep and you don’t want to wake her up because god forbid she might not go back to sleep.
Miraculously we all did finally doze off, Little L instantly becoming a dead weight that threatened to fall into the aisle every time my grip on her body relaxed, C curled up on the seat between M and I, resting her head on her daddy’s lap. And M and I did our best to get comfortable in the cramped space.
About a minute after taking off we arrived in Cincinnati, covered in snow, a world away from the sunny unseasonal warmth we had just left back in California. The rental company pointed us to our car in the lot and left us to figure out how to clear the snow covering it. M and I looked at each other over the mounds of snow, flashing back to our time together in Boston.
No snow to clear off cars. Another reason to love living in California.
But then we drove to my sister’s house where we were greeted by said sister, her kids, and my other sister. We ate fresh croissants and bagels, chatted over coffee, and let the tired fall away. The snow kept falling outside, but inside, where there was no airplane vent, wriggly toddler, or snow to clear off anything, it was easy to forget how far we had to come to get here.