Back Home Again... The Trip

Yes, we're home... and I'd like to celebrate my 3 month-old's first transatlantic flight.  

Do you ever get to the point that you want to throw yourself on the ground and wallow, thrashing your arms and legs and screaming that "it's all too much?"  Well, that's me at about the 10 hour mark on the 13 hours it takes to fly from Amman to Chicago.  And it's not so much the flight itself as it is the knowing that there's still another 8-10 hours more to go.  That's right, folks... it takes us 24 hours of straight travel to get home.  How's that?  Your 45 minute commute sounding like a breeze?  Yeah, thought so.

The beauty of being an adult is that you have inherent social filters built in that keep you from all that thrashing about.  A 3 mo-old does not.  Which goes a long way to proving my point that my kid's better than the average when I tell you that Cooper did his own personal 24 hour Le Mans and did it in style.  There was no prolonged screaming during cabin pressurization.  Did I have to walk the aisles with him to keep him occupied? Well, sure, just like at home.  But, there was no aisle thrashing at the 8, 10 or 12 hour mark (although his mom did have to pull his dad up outta the drink cart's path).  Overall, Cooper performed beautifully and did it much sooner than we expected him to have to do so.

We're trying to note all the things that are firsts on this trip.  His first passport, first baggage claim, first time on American soil (which, for some reason, we always have to say to him in accent: "Aaah-mir-eee-kkah!").
His first airport food court nap... the first of many to come.

I'm so proud of him.

All our gear made it safely... for those who know RJ has upped their baggage fees but when you travel with a kid you get an extra bag, even without the full-fare seat.  When we finally dragged our weary tootsies into Lambert, St. Louis there was a lovely greeting party waiting... home, no matter where, is sweet.