Sunday, July 26, 2015
I arrived at the ticketing counter with my stroller, carseat, my almost 2-year-old, my 5-month-old, a diaper bag filled to the brim, laptop, purse, and suitcase on Saturday morning and was told I was not going to make my flight. Somewhere in my planning, I miscalculated the time I needed to leave the house, though I'd been up and ready long before my departure.
The morning, while hectic, ran unexpectedly smoothly. I had gone to bed the night before with a migraine, leaving all of my packing for the next morning, in addition to loading everyone up to take the dogs for boarding. I had even volunteered to take my sister-in-law and nephew along with me to the airport since they were flying to meet the Dischinger clan in New York for their grandparents' wedding anniversary. I was pretty proud of my accomplished morning.
Yet here I was, suddenly without a plane to board, arms full of an accomplished morning in the form of babies and baggage. I sobbed. It was instant and automatic.
The sweet Southwest Airlines employee, in the midst of my instant despair, climbed over the baggage scales from the ticketing counter and hugged me. Honestly, it comforted me more than I could have expected.
On the bright side, Brooks was thrilled to climb back onto the big blue bus for our ride back to our parking lot. We even happened to have the same driver who greeted us with, "Uh Oh," remembering she had dropped us off not long before.
We all made it home in one piece. (Dogs, included.) We had popcorn and homemade chocolate milkshakes for dinner. And after the babes were put to bed, this momma had a glass of wine. Catch ya another weekend, Hoosierland.