Dearest Family
Dearest Family,
Tomorrow, we will take a train, a taxi, 3 planes and a car to see you. We will leave at 10 in the morning on Wednesday and arrive at 5 the next morning on Thursday (UK time). We will brave the no-man's land that is Heathrow Airport, including a terminal change. We will have 3 seats amongst 5 people. We will have to wrangle 3 incredibly busy people in spaces smaller than a breadbox. We will have to entertain Georgia, whose main interest is destruction, who only naps in bed and whose shrieks can break glass, on 3 different flights. In fact, the thought of taking Georgia on the plane makes both Kevin and I break out into a cold sweat. We will steer our children away from the chocolate/toys/soda/McDonalds that will line our every path when we are at any airport. We will pay $10 for turkey sandwiches that have been left too long in cellophane.
We will arrive exhausted and covered in baby sick/chocolate/food/coffee/juice. Our children will not sleep for days because of jet lag and we will all be unspeakably vile and grumpy. We will trash your houses. We will throw tantrums and toys. We will demand Mexican food/goldfish/chocolate milk/almond butter at every turn.
I will need that very specific iced coffee from a very specific coffee shop on University Avenue, even though I find them too sweet. I will breastfeed in public without putting a blanket on Theo's head. Kevin will drink too much 3 Buck Chuck and turn bright red. Ellis was hound his uncles and his beloved cousins to take him fishing/play video games with him. He will also follow his Grampa Goldin around like he's a Rock Star. Georgia will climb on everything, empty all our drawers and drive her oldest brother crazy. Theo will only be happy when he's held by his mother. After we leave your houses, you will find cheerios and Goldfish everywhere.
We will mooch around Barnes and Noble. When we try to leave the building, Ellis will sob hysterically. Regardless of what we are doing, on the 2nd day I will sob hysterically. At Mom's wedding, I will sob hysterically. The day before we leave, I will pick a fight with my mother in a vain attempt to make leaving easier. On the day we leave, I will sob hysterically.
My children, who think 70F is hot, will melt in the 90F heat. We will spend hours at the shopping mall, playing in the play areas as they refuse to play outside. Kevin may or may not drive on the right side of the road and may or may not turn into oncoming traffic.
The first time we go to Target, I will wander the aisles and be amazed (once again) that such a store exists. The second time we go to Target, I will wonder why brought the children there. The third time we go to Target, I will wonder why we didn't learn the first and second times. The fourth time we go to Target, I will swear profusely that I am there again, whilst trying to "run in" for just one thing, getting lost somewhere between the lamps and the milk. The fifth time we go to Target, we will buy only toys that will not fit in the suitcases and nothing we need.
We will laugh a lot. We will eat even more. We will drink like fish. We will celebrate Mom's wedding and welcome S into the family. We will love every moment.
We love you. We can't wait to see you.
