So this would be our third road trip in four weeks. Yes, you read that right. I've at least got the packing down to a science. And Ewan has gotten the hang of sleeping in his pack and play in utterly random places-- the closet, the bathroom, or even behind a 'wall' made out of an extra mattress. (And before anyone starts freaking out, I assure you we are careful to make sure he is safe. He is apparently the only baby who hates co-sleeping. Alas.) I have figured out what we can live without (toys) and what we cannot (books, Ergo, baby monitor), how to handle nap-strikes, weird eating situations, and (at least sort of) calm a crying baby in the back seat.
I traveled a lot when I was younger, even lived abroad for awhile, but have never really thought of myself as an adventurous person. I enjoy itineraries. Lists. Arriving way too early to the airport. I have been known to print out driving directions from google maps. I used to travel with a scented candle so rooms would smell familiar. Seriously. WHO DOES THAT? (Tangent: Do you guys remember that Full House episode when go to Hawaii and meet the Beach Boys and the dad hands out itineraries on clipboards to everyone? Yeeeeaah. That would be me.) Traveling with Ewan has been oddly liberating. Sure, it's messy and very complicated and involves craploads of stuff, but he has a way of turning even the shortest, smallest trips into outright adventures.
Especially when he SUDDENLY STARTS WALKING IN EARNEST at an elevation of 6,000 feet, with no guard rails or soft ground in sight, and we are supposed to spend the day in a three story building made of stairs and stone, surrounded by chefs and their knives and stoves in a massive cooking competition. Riiiiight. In spite of all that (or maybe because of it?) we had a great time. Ewan was so pumped to finally be on two feet that he wobbled around the place, grabbing food from every booth, grinning like a madman. I found meat in his SOCKS. To make up for all my new gray hair, I sampled every flavor of Salt & Straw ice cream TWICE. So yeah. Not too shabby.
The only thing that could have made the weekend better (besides perhaps, a babysitter, so I could have attended the after-bedtime fancy dinner as well) would have been a total, sweeping victory for Aaron and Team St. Jack... except oh wait yeah THEY WON EVERY SINGLE CATEGORY. (You can read about it here.) I was so proud! After they announced the winners, Aaron hoisted Ewan up on his shoulders, and the photographers and media folk started snapping away, and Aaron looked uncomfortable and Ewan's bottom lip began to quiver... and I realized for the hundred millionth time just how similar they are. My sweet, sweet, gentlehearted boy. My talented, gentleharted husband. You guys, I am so lucky in the menfolk department.
We are home now and getting back into the swing of things. Ewan is enjoying terrifying the animals with his newfound skills. I am enjoying clean sheets and refrigerators and baby-proofed stairways. My sister flies into town for a long-awaited visit next week, so we plan to take it sloooooow this weekend. Like, 'no pants' slow. I've got a date with my couch, the Kardashians, and an entire month's worth of laundry. A real jet-setter, let me tell you.
