And Now…Posted: July 16, 2012
Less than 12 hours after we arrive, Andrew has to get back on a plane for a work trip. I’m feeling a little unprepared. I am in the new apartment with no food, no coffee maker, 2 sick cats, 2 crazy boys and tons of stuff – in what might be 400 sq. feet. The boys entertain themselves for a while with the toys they haven’t seen for a few months, and they make forts with the pleather furniture. But it’s clear we need to get out.
When I travel I try to figure things out and look like I belong, or at least look like I know what I’m doing. We really couldn’t stick out any more here, and walking with the boys is insane. The sidewalks come and go, there are large holes in the ground to watch out for, no crosswalks and cars whipping around corners as we try to cross the street. I am a bundle of nerves, trying to keep them from getting run over or snatched or plunging into a sinkhole.
In my ideal world the kids hold my hand and we’re all super vigilant and we walk with purpose until we get where we’re going. (And I would have the stroller that is still in Ft. Lauderdale waiting for a connecting flight). But the handholding is vehemently refused and these boys do not move at the same speed. Aiden is a spring-loaded whirling dervish and Sam goes at a snail’s pace, usually trying to drive a lego car along every surface on the way –going back if he misses a spot. Aiden is rotating his arms at his side while spinning, jumping and randomly screaming or running back to hit Sam or hug his face. He’s so excited, which is a relief, but his energy is overwhelming. And I have four days with them, on my own. Dios mio.