Tornadoes. That’s what it all comes down to. As in, touching DOWN TO the ground in
Our plane was supposed to take off at 7:45 Tuesday morning but was cancelled, bumping us to the 4:45 pm flight. We arrived at 2:30 pm to make sure we had plenty of time to get through security with little ten month old Jack in the mix. Turns out we did, indeed, have buckets of time since our plane didn’t take off until after 7 pm. At that point, it seemed that the big storm system through the South had boiled itself out, leaving us a clear flight path.
That’s the thing with big crazy Southern storm systems though. They have to knack for popping up in waves, invisible from shore until the start rolling up the beachfront. By the time we reached
We spent the night at
Oh, and by the way, there’s something wrong with the plane’s starter. We need a guy with a screw driver to head on out and turn it on manually, but we’re positive it won’t be a problem in the morning. Sleep tight!
My son, my ten month old darling baby boy, was amazing. With a calm that put all the screaming, cursing adult passengers to shame, he made giggle faces at his reflection in the windows and slept peacefully in his car seat (they brought all our stuff off the plane) as if he were tucked in his very own bed. Hysterical business-types shouted about law suits at unfortunate American Airlines customer service reps but my baby boy just crawled around the conference room where we’d camped with the other two families with kids. He pulled on cords and scooted underneath office chairs.
We finally arrived in
We found nothing. Well, not nothing exactly, but nothing concrete. We still don’t know what neighborhood we want, what school is best, which house would be ideal, and so on. Part of the trick with
And there are SO MANY areas. Seriously, the city is huge (4th largest city in the country, did ya know it?). So many beautiful places, thousands of houses, hundreds of schools, not enough time, not enough time, not enough time.
We head back on Monday, with hopefully less tornadoes diverting our path (though it must be said the staff at the
For the moment, it’s all chaos over here; basically, we don't know anything we'll be doing or when we'll be doing it until a few days before it's about to happen. It’s nerve-wracking. The children are out of school, bored to tears and tantrums and totally unaware of the big picture changes coming right at them. Kurt is refinishing the deck and scraping paint and staining doors and all sorts of other handy things.
And I? Well, I’m watching the kids. A noble calling in a busy time, but it doesn’t feel very satisfying. Between naps, playdates, errands and time-outs, I’m starting to sort through things. I’m trying to get in all my good-byes. And sometimes, I’m trying not to cry. I want to leave now, just to be done with this part of it. I’m excited and hopeful and very happy we have this amazing opportunity. But with the decisions made, this whole production has gone into a sort of auto-pilot and I’m just being carried along for the ride. There’s no real action for me to take except hold on tight.
Our little detour to
And the children took it all in a stride. There’s a lesson to be learned here, people. Screaming at the phone rep is only going to leave you exhausted and hung up on. In helpless situations, take your cue from the babies. Just go with it.