I always love seeing the sign “Welcome to Canada”…

Author: dav  |  Category: Uncategorized

I always love seeing the sign “Welcome To Canada” especially after a twelve hour drive that should have been eight. You learn a lot about yourself on a drive that’is long enough already but swollen an extra third. It’s like a parent daring to fly by themselves with two kids under three. You plan it for weeks in advance slightly altering their sleeping and eating schedule until it looks as if they will feed just before take off and then immediately pass out for two and a half hours, waking up only in time for the three year old to walk off the plane. You board the flight safely, arrive at the bulk head seats you requested and see there is an extra seat. You breath deeply and look back at all the nice things you did that week and vow to do more because the pay off is huge. You feed the kids, give the oldest a bottle, buckle him in, cover him in a blanket and watch his eyes slowly open and close until he surrenders to sleep. Then you nurse the baby until she snores, you look around to find a friendly face to blurt out that the baby , always a light sleeper has never snored before, sure you might even be able to read your book! You pat yourself on the back and think about how the tantrum your three year old had last week left you in tears and second guessing if you were cut out for parenthood at all and now people in the seat in front of you are turning around to say how beautiful and well behaved your children are. As if in slow motion you realize everyone has boarded the plane, they’ve closed the doors and the kids have been asleep for fifteen minutes already, this is really cutting into your plan. You hear the click of the loudspeaker and as much as you are willing them to say take off is imminent, they are telling you there is slight engine trouble, nothing to worry about, but everyone must remain on the plane, it shouldn’t take more then a few hours. You sit there in shock as the attendant passes out free drinks, while you’d like to down the whole cart, instead you eat five packages of pretzels to carb load and steel yourself for the glares the people in front of you are going to give you in exactly two hours when your kids wake up and you haven’t left the ground yet. Who am I kidding? My drive was nothing like that, in fact now it’s feeling like it could have been the best twelve hours of my life.

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