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Traveling Trauma

When I first started considering taking Corban up to Philadelphia for his orthopedic care, I thought, "how fun! I'll get out of the house, have a break from the kids, meet new people, and have a world of new experiences." Well, not really, but sort of. At the very least, I thought, "this won't be so bad!"

I am here to tell you, that after today, I am definitely rethinking how fun this whole traveling thing is.

First of all, I think I can pretty confidently say that only half of the drivers in Philadelphia obey traffic laws. The other half? They pull out in the middle of the street while you are driving 55 mph (on the main road) then just about plaster the side of their car to the front of yours, before you squeeze by and avoid a high speed collision. Then after you've cheated death by a few feet, a pedestrian crosses the road. And then another. And then another. Then you have bike lanes, bus lanes and one-way streets. The buses take up half of their lane and half of yours. You pray your way past the bicyclists as they swerve in and out of traffic. And the one-way streets! Oh, the one-way streets. They're EVERYWHERE!! I hold my breath each time I turn, praying I'm not about to meet oncoming traffic.

Traffic lights are on the side of the road (not over the road, like I've always known and loved), some streets have 4 way stops, and some have 2 way. And you never know which one you're at. And the best part? People run red lights. All. The. Time.

But if driving around Philadelphia doesn't provide enough traveling trauma in a day, there's always flying. And it's not the getting there that's a problem, it's the getting back that scares me.

Let me just tell you about my day and you'll understand.

Woke up around 9:30 this morning after Corban cried off and on all throughout the night. Makes for a very long night! He usually has trouble the first day, as those casts can be a painful adjustment for him. It's hard on both of us. :I But we immediately start preparing to leave, knowing we have no time to spare. Flight leaves at 3:24pm. 

After eating breakfast, making a lunch to take with me, feeding Corban, packing up all 3 bags that have just been strewn all over the room, stripping the beds, taking out the trash, cleaning the bathroom, making sure everything is back in it's original place (RMH requirements), checking out, lugging all 3 bags, Corban, his car seat and stroller out to the rental car, it's about 12:30pm. Plenty of time, right?

We load up the car and head off to fill the gas tank before I return the rental. I find the nearby Wawa (I love saying that word! Wawa? Wawa.) It takes 3 times of "green light red light" in the left turn lane before I'm able to turn into the gas station. But wait! Before I do, someone cuts right in front of me in the middle of the intersection and takes a left before I finally get my turn. Shocked, I manage to pull into the gas station, fill 'er up, and drive down the road to the car rental return. By then, it's 1:30 and time for Corban to eat again. 

So, I sit in the rental car lobby to feed Corban for a half and hour (which is how long it always takes him to eat. At least.) Then we load everything onto the shuttle bus and head for the airport (another 15 minutes, or so). 

Arrive at the airline. Check in. Then I haul everything upstairs to greet TSA (yippee ki yay. I love this part). I take out all the liquids I'm carrying (I have many) and place them in quart sized baggies so I don't get yelled at. Then I join the line, take off my shoes, jewelry, and empty everything out of my pockets. I place all 3 backpacks (my luggage backpack, pump, and Corban's g-tube pump) in the plastic tubs they give you, then line them up on the conveyer belt. I take Corban and his car seat out of the stroller, collapse the stroller, place it on the conveyer belt. Then take Corban out of his car seat so I can one-handedly put that on the conveyer belt too (upside down, of course. Again, don't want to get yelled at.) Then Corban and I are finally able to walk through the metal detector. As soon as we make it through, I immediately put my shoes on, and start reassembling everything I just took apart to get through security. Then without fail, they pull me aside to test Corban's milk. If I'm really lucky, they might inspect his g-tube bag or wipe down his casts too, but not today. 

By now, it's 2:30. Ish. 

But I have to find time to pump in all of this madness. Can't do it on the plane. So, I find a handicapped bathroom where Corban and I can be left alone. I thought this was the perfect solution to my awkward dilemma, until someone knocked on the door. And again. And again. They ended up knocking 3 or 4 times before they finally YELL "are you done?? Someone's waiting to use the bathroom!!!" Sigh. Such a glamorous moment.

SO, we leave the highly-sought-after-private-not-so-private restroom, to catch a shuttle bus to our terminal. I walk down the hall, over to the elevator, and get interrupted by yet another person asking how old my baby is and "aw, he must have just been born" when I proceed to tell them he's actually 8 months old and "no, he's not crawling." We take the elevator downstairs, wait for the shuttle to arrive, and by then it's 2:55. I'm realizing that at this point I'm cutting it dangerously close. 

We take the shuttle and arrive in the middle of the terminal at 3:09. My gate it at the end of the terminal. At this point, I'm imagining missing my plane and getting stuck in the airport until the next flight at 9 PM, so I run as fast as I can to my gate. I'm talking, baby + stroller + 3 bags, swerving madly in and out of people, trying not to run them over, fast. I would have loved to have seen what I looked like!! Or maybe I wouldn't.

I arrive at my gate at 3:15, notice the sign that says "doors close 10 minutes prior to departure," and completely start to panic. The gate attendant looks at me with puzzled eyes, as I drip with sweat (she probably saw me running through the airport like a manic and knows I'm not just trying out a new exercise routine). I manage to get out in between my hyperventilating breaths, "Am I too late to board?" 

She replies, "Oh. The plane isn't here yet."

Wow. And the best part? It ended up being an hour late.

So, when I say I'm on my way to Philly, think of me. And maybe even say a little prayer. Because if my trip is anything like it was today, I need all the prayer I can get!!!
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Definite Progress

I thought you all would like to see the progress on Corban's feet, so far. It definitely makes an impression, when you can see where he started and how far he's come. Isn't it amazing?!