Homeward Bound

But hangin' in San Fran. This is the second place hubby and I have ventured kids in tow to places we slinked around P.B. (pre babies).



But let me start at the beginning:



After a month of fun and knocking myself out dealing with the GERD infant and four other children, trying to show them the vacation of their lifetimes (and the kids have been to Australia and Bali, so this was a major milestone to accomplish for me), hubby flew up on Friday to rescue me. Rescuing to me means 1. sleeping in til oh, 8am and 2. Nordstrom sale. I need to say no more.



We pick up hubby at the airport, after four spins around the terminal awaiting his blessed arrival (which I think totalled to about $16. 00 in gas), then trying to find the airport's holy grail, the cell phone lot, playing chicken with an armed and PISSED OFF AT ALL STUPID BLONDE WOMEN DRIVING LARGE SUVS security guard in the clearly marked DO NOT ENTER area of the airport (I love an adventure, I tell you), we find hubby.



Deposit the non-jet lagged traveller into the black SUV. Drive to Tukwila. Spew out of said vehicle. Leave hubby and four eager children at the entrance of Nordstrom. Take deep breath of snooty, on sale, perfumy Nordstrom air and RUN, run, I say, into the store with only one child and Grandma in tow. Try on jeans. Touch all sorts of beautful clothes. Hold hand in front of infant facing outwards in Baby Bjorn who has decided to spew spittle doing newly found ability to 'motorboat' with her lips. Realize that people sayins 'oh how cute' are only being polite and no one, NO ONE wants to try on $100 shirts with baby spit on them. Keep hand in place covering cute baby's face.



Leave establishment. Go to Grandma's for some sleep and SLEEP IN. Til 9 AM. Will wonders never cease? (this is of course, after getting up every 2 hours for infant.) Pack six people's belongings back up for trip home. Which means trying to find three small boys' shoes and enough socks to cover us for the three day trip back home. Not easy.



Go to airshow (tin cans with wings, I tell ya). Last supper with family. More sleep. Up at 3:30am to nurse baby, rip covers of of snoring hubby at 4am, out the door at 5am. Get to long lost friend's house at 7:30 PM. Yes, we drove from Olympia to San Franscisco in ONE DAY. Unbelievable. Even after Kyle ripped loose tooth out at the 2 hour mark and the B colored over her face with a black marker a the 5 hour mark. Note to self: If I have to tell 2 year old 'Do not write on yourself, just on the paper' it's probably not a good idea in the first place to have her do said activity.



Travel quote of the day was hubby: "No drinking water. Drinking water makes you pee and peeing makes you stop."



Today, up and at 'em at oh, 10 am. Out the door at noon. To San Fran. Drive over bridge. Go to Lombard Street, actually find parking so we can walk up and down and then drive it. More tourists video taping the large American family in the big, black SUV than the actual street. Icing on the cake that Kyle is wearing Holy Family Catholic School sweatshirt.



Do the kidcation again - Curving road, Hard Rock Cafe for lunch, Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum and Ghiridelli for overpriced ice cream Sundaes. Nothin' like paying $75 for lunch, another $40 for ice cream. ICE CREAM. Okay, so I regularly pay $3.50 for a coffee, but that's another story. Then, Zach decides he would have rather gone to Cold Stone and refuses to eat his ice cream. We're all about empathizing, so without missing a beat, we eat our icecream, then his ice cream too. Kid has to find graham crackers in the back of the car if he wants to have dessert.



Have pictures, but no USB cable, so I'll do that later. In the meantime, here is the commercial break:



Yes, that's a 'heart mom' free lance sharpie pen tattoo on his upper arm. His brothers are practicing for their inevetible stay in San Quentin, obviously.