1 toddler
1 15 week old
1 woman about to turn 90
2 great-grandparents
1 house
1 bathroom
1 lost luggage
9 days

Mix it all up, bake at 3 degrees Celsius and you don’t exactly get a carefree week. We were pampered and….hallelujah….got some sleep. Thane and Mara slept upstairs with Gia and Pappou while Jay and I slept in the basement. The basement was cold. Too cold for the kids but perfect for us. The bed had this amazing comforter. We would slide into bed, feeling like we had a lead weight on us but in the crisp night it was perfect and let us slumber in this very refreshing sleep…until 8 am every morning.

The trip did not start out well but I tried to maintain a very cheerful and perky attitude. We awoke at 3:30 am to get to the airport around 2 hours later. Once there we checked in and made our way to some breakfast. Being the thoughtful passengers we are, we ordered some corned beef hash, creating a wonderfully wafting aroma for a small, recirculating air airplane. At 7 am they announced we were delayed. Our Detroit layover was only 30 minutes so we were hopeless to make it. They switched our airline (no not flight, entire airline) and our layover city (now Toronto) and we waited around for 3 more hours. Imagine being in the airport for 5 hours. Now add a 3 month old. Now add a toddler.

We survived the trip, made our connection, and arrived in Ottawa, sans 1 piece of luggage. One piece of luggage that had my breast pump. There was no sign of it either and it had been 12 hours since I last pumped when we arrived. I was hurting and Mara won’t nurse anymore. Four hours later we spent $400 Cdn and bought a new one. Five uses later my luggage arrived.

The week was spent with family, cousins and grandparents, neighbors and aunts. We missed the snow fall but were there for the thaw. We visited the Farm again. Thane had a blast. Mara, who had been close to rolling over the week before the trip, was not out of anyone’s arms long enough to try again. She was cuddled all week long. Gia watched Thane and Mara or just Mara several times, giving Jay and I some time to be out together.

Aunt Sue’s 90th birthday unfortunately saw her with a cold so we celebrated quietly at home.

Julie, the quintessential super-mom, thought Thane was old enough to be potty trained, and I, always eager to move to the next milestone agreed. Jay disagreed but humored me. Have you every tried to potty train a child in a house with one bathroom? That is not your house? Where there is no dryer to wash wet pants? Where there are two elderly people who have a touch of the flu? We tried it the next day at Julie’s house with the boys. Jay summed it up very well…at least Dimitri is not old enough to remember his American cousin with the wet pants.

All in all, it was a good trip. I am thrilled the kids got to spend so much time with their family and Jay and I got a bit of a break (thanks gia!).

The trip home was as relaxing as the trip there.

As we were checking in, Delta realized we did not have a passport for Mara. Apparently this is an issue. Apparently we should never have been allowed to leave the country. They are looking at me like they are about to turn us out when I state that we got in their country this way, what are they going to, stop us from going back to ours? (Really, I said that). They thought about it for a few minutes, called ahead, risked facing a fine and sent us on our merry way.

Well, our merry way ended at the border crossing down the hall. Whereas we had breezed through customs just over a week earlier, we were now scoffed at for not having a passport for her (did I mention I did not get her passport because I was waiting for her revised birth certificate with the Danaë spelled correctly?). Only they did not scoff. They looked, scanned our passports, snorted, then furiously started typing. They got up, walked away, came back, asked us to follow. They led us into a room and told us to sit. Talked to someone. Walked away. Walked back. Nothing said. I finally asked if it was because she did not have a passport and was answered with a gruff “yes.” Minutes ticked by and started to eat into our 90 minute window before our flight left. When we were finally addressed, I pleaded ignorance in not having her passport for Canadian travel. The guard walked from access door to desk to access door, apparently to some man behind the screen supervisor. She finally returned and looked ready to read us our Miranda rights but instead handed us back our paperwork with a promise to get a passport. I don’t have the stomach for a life of crime.

And yes, LM, lesson learned, get Mara a passport.