But now that we are no longer mainlining DayQuil/NyQuil and the novelty of being home to sleep in our own beds has worn off, I am already wishing we could go back.
I still cannot quite wrap my head around the fact that my boys were born in Oregon and that they will never be from California.
Nels had been looking forward to the flight since the day he heard about it. He love, love, loves to fly. We left after dinner on a Thursday night, and the Portland airport was very quiet and full of good will. The boys could have stepped out of another era in their dark blue jeans and plain zip-up hooded sweatshirts (red for Nels, navy for Willem), and the ticketing agent and TSA agent both complimented them on their nice manners. I take no credit, but that does not stop me from being proud of them.
Shaun and I agreed that we are probably at the sweet spot age-wise for traveling with children. Too bad we are not at the sweet spot money-wise.
I had a rare good idea and suggested each boy bring a notebook and a pencil with which to occupy himself while waiting. Perfect.
I sometimes complain about the fact that we have few pictures of me, but we have way fewer of Shaun. Here he is (or his shadowy profile, at least), just to prove he was on the trip too.
Willem didn't actually remember having flown before, and he was a little nervous to look out of the window at all the lights on the ground. I hear ya, buddy.
Shaun assured me I'd been to the Ontario airport before, but I sure didn't remember. It feels like the middle of nowhere, but it was plenty convenient to Orange County with the added benefit of being teeny tiny. On our drive to Placentia I spotted a glowing beacon off the freeway. We'd had plenty of snacks but no proper dinner. "I could so go for that right now," I sighed.
And so we did, at 10:30 at night, en route to Shaun's sister's house. Good thing, too, because it was the only time we ended up eating at In-N-Out on our trip. Which is one of the many reasons I need to go back sooner rather than later.