Apparently we travel traumatically...

We just spent our New Year's Eve in various modes of transportation. The Hub had left Salt Lake earlier for work related purposes, so it was me directing, three sleep deprived kids, and all of our Christmas loot. I don't know why I thought that a 3:00 pm departure time from SLC with an 11:30 pm arrival in Washington D.C. on New Year's Eve would be an appropriate time for travel - but - that's what we scheduled.

Firstly, the car ride to the airport was mildly eventful due to our slightly late departure time compounded by the glaring 'empty' light indicating a forthcoming fuel complication. We made it, fortunately with a slight amount of time to spare for our 3:00 flight, even with the unscheduled pit stop.

Our first flight (SLC to Atlanta) was unremarkable, except for it's drama and duration - three tired kids on a 3 1/2 hour flight, bereaving our departure from Utahan family and friends with many tears and exclamations of discontent over our exodus. The arrival of snacks and drinks did much to placate until both boys somehow simultaneously spilled their Sprite in their laps.

The second flight was less sorrowful but contained some interesting life lessons that I was not quite ready for the kids to receive. Miss A started reading aloud to me from a book that she received for Christmas. Suddenly she asked 'what does S.O.B.mean?' Other than defining it as a curse word, I did not go into any descriptive details. Yes, my carefully selected book, based on fond childhood memories has passed along some vocabulary nuggets that I did not remember it contained. As I finish up this conversation with Miss A, Mr. N leans across the aisle and in a marginally hushed tone (that could only be heard by the people a few rows front and back) asks:

Mr. N: Mom - did you know that Brittany Spears sister is pregnant? (He was sitting next to a boy of about fourteen)

Me: Um - (trying to decide how best to have a birds and the bees lesson in a public forum) Yes, I knew that.

Mr. N: Did you know she was sixteen? (He holds up a magazine, presumably from his seat-mate and points to a headline.)

Me: Yes, I knew that also.

Mr. N: Why would a teenager want to have a baby?

Me: (very aware of the people in the rows around us who are raptly listening to my explanation) That is the sort of thing that happens to a teenager who makes bad choices.

Mr. N: Yeah, way bad choices. (Not that he know what those precise choices are.)

I instructed him to play his game boy for the rest of the flight and made a metal note to have a somewhat serious discussion later. I thought the drama was over but when Mr. Z dropped some things on the floor and I bent down to retrieve them, he rather loudly exclaimed

"Oh my *** Mom! I can see your underwear!" And so I discussed, again rather publicly, the third commandment as well as being discreet about things like underwear.

After arriving at Dulles Airport, securing 2 smart carts and loading our five suitcases, one large box, eight carry-on's and four coats, we progressed towards the Washington Flier services to catch a cab. Fortunately we were first in line.

And so, at 11:55 we were headed home - listening to a certain Maryland based radio station that broadcast a rather obnoxious selection of rap. Our New Year's count down was conducted by a female D.J. (possibly intoxicated) who mentioned that her resolution was to 'get some'. Me, the kids (one sadly contemplating family and friends, one having a all out fit over some injustice involving seat belts, and one obnoxiously screaming happy new year...over and over and over), and the cab driver listened to the radio as the D.J. spent some time discussing her New Year's goal of finding a man.

Ahhhhhh - Metropolitan D.C. - Virginia.....

It's good to be home. (Seriously)