We made it!
Friday evening found us landing in the San Francisco airport, a bit harried, a lot tired, and mostly happy to see Daddy.
My thoughts on the flights:
1. I can’t complain. I didn’t get sick, and Jameson didn’t fuss for even a second the ENTIRE DAY. What a kid.
2. Nonetheless, I found myself wanting to complain. I just don’t like flying.
3. Reminding myself, while running through O’Hare with a heavy baby on my hip and trying to steer a heavily-laden stroller with one hand, that my mom would think of this as an adventure, helped me smile. Even through security, which surprised every guard there.
4. Although I don’t condone handing off children to total strangers, I will say that exceptions can and should be made. When I got through security and had to (with one hand) assemble my collapsed stroller, position the carseat, put the laptop back in the bag, put two bags over my shoulder without dropping the contents which had been hastily stuffed inside, and put my shoes back on, I decided to say yes when a kind lady from the next line over offered to hold my baby for a minute. (I realized later that that one minute was the only time, for 10 hours straight, that I was not holding Jameson. Wow, I am sooo ripped.)
5. Last thought: I dread going home to visit. Maybe someday, when I’ve mastered packing and baby-balancing, that dread will dissipate.
But enough with planes and airports. How ’bout some California?
Saturday we did some traipsing. Sunday, too. Ryan is a great traipser, and I think it’s one of his favorite thins to do. So far, we’ve done downtown Los Altos (cute shops, yummy breakfast), Santa Cruz (too touristy for my husband who likes to remind me that he grew up on the ocean and doesn’t do public beaches), San Jose (where we overheard a girl walking out of G*cci: “Oh m’gosh, what a great deal! It was like $1725!,” and we’re pretty sure, judging by security guards at the door of the store, that she didn’t mean $17.25), Palo Alto (more on that later), and Halfmoon Bay.
Lots of sunshine and lots of togetherness for this little family of three.
We love each other.
Monday was our 2nd anniversary. Ryan had a gift ready and waiting, and, in true Ryan-style, it was killing him to have to wait till Monday to give it to me. Lucky for him, Jameson spit up all over my clothes right before leaving for church on Sunday, and Ryan whisked out his gift bag, ready to save the day with a brand new outfit. Usually I’m not okay with early gift-giving, but in this instance (new clothes, that is), it was fine by me.
Oh — so, Sunday was church. Hmm. I’ll run out of time if I write about that too much. Suffice to say, I met a really friendly couple, and we’re going out with their family next week after church, at which point she’ll grill me about homeschooling. I really liked her, and I’m looking forward to getting together.
Back to anniversary: Sunday night was coming to an end, and with it, our special weekend together. Monday morning, Ryan would go to work, and my week in the hotel with Jameson would begin. I was a bit sad, that’s for sure. So was Ryan — I thought.
Until he finally told me, as the night was coming to a close, that he had taken the day off so we could celebrate our anniversary together! Ooh, I was so excited! Another day of “vacation”!
The whole day would be a surprise, however. He only told me be ready to leave by 8am.
The big surprise was unveiled as we drove into Palo Alto and stopped at a very chic spa. Ryan had set up an appointment for an hour of massage, preceded by time in a private jacuzzi/sauna room. Oo-la-la. I felt like Fancy Nancy! (Sorry to all you who only have little boys. I’m sure you haven’t read that book.)
So the boys drove off, and Jameson cooperated with the plan by sleeping the entire time I was at the spa. I did, too. Well, maybe it was wasn’t full-fledged sleeping, but I was definitely relaxing with my eyes closed, drinking in every detail of the teak jacuzzi, the water spilling over smooth brown tile, being pampered and spoiled and quiet for a whole hour… I’ll tell ya, I wouldn’t think of myself as a spa kind of girl, but I figured out how to enjoy myself, that’s for sure.
After eating our umpteenth meal at Whole Foods, we headed out to Halfmoon Bay. (Is it one word or two? Not sure…) It was a gorgeous drive, although nothing beats Big Sur. Trust me. The temperature at the Bay was wonderfully refreshing. The shops were darling. The company was perfect. Although we didn’t spend gobs of time there in an effort to beat rush hour traffic, we did mark it as a place to revisit.
The only sad part about our anniversary was that I was counting on Ryan being gone all day, thus giving me an opportunity to buy him a card and such — since I hadn’t had much of a chance in the weeks preceding our move. But, no worries. I’ve since rectified the situation, and tonight he’ll get a belated anniversary token from yours truly.
Ryan is fabulous. After being away for a month, I’m finding renewed appreciation for him. We arrived to a neat and tidy hotel room, where his clothes fit nicely into the drawers, and his one piece of luggage was tucked away, out of sight. No longer. Now we are three, and I packed gobs and gobs, knowing we’d be without our belongings for quite a bit. I’m very aware of how much more difficult his life became the minute we landed at the airport — but he assumes his role as husband and father without complaint. Now there are bags to be carried, a baby to be hushed, less room in the bed, more food to be bought… It goes on and on, and you all know the little but constant services required of a dad. Well, I love him for every one. He’s a great guy.
Do I miss home? Well, my dad always said there are no dumb questions, but if there was, that would be one of them. However, I’m sure there will be plenty on that topic in upcoming posts. For now, I’ll just say that I woke up Saturday morning and asked Ryan, “Is it okay that I’m already homesick?”
But that’s all for now. Thanks for reading!