In the span of four weeks, i.e. one month, my little family has set foot on three different continents, rested their head on pillows in three different countries, have spent days and eaten meals in three different time zones, and have spoken in three different languages.
Right now it is 4:30 AM in Paris, where we currently are and it is 10:30 PM in Nashua, the latest city from which we recently departed. Only Damien slept about 2 hours on our 6 hour flight, which took off from Logan at 5:30 PM and landed at CDG at about 12:15 AM Eastern Standard Time (6:15 AM Paris time). Of course, the boys fell asleep in the plane in the last 20 minutes of our flight as we were landing. And then they fell asleep in the taxi ride home. When we arrived home, we all went to bed and slept about 5 hours. I haven’t slept since then. The boys have been waking up on and off since we tried to put them to bed at 7:30 PM Paris time (1:30 pm Eastern Standard Time). I find that the worst thing for me to do when I am tired is to attempt to lie down in my bed, rest my head on my pillow pull up the covers, find my place and my ideal sleeping position and then hear one or both boys cry out calling for Mama with eyes wide open, tummies growling and big smiles on their faces (also known as Jet-lag). After trying to lie down numerous times, for fifteen to thirty minutes of ZZZZZ’s, I have decided to give up attempting to sleep. If my writing appears slurred, or messy or full of spelling mistakes, that’s normal because I happen to be a bit disoriented, lacking in usual motor skills and proper judgement and somewhat unbalanced, also suffering from jet-lag.
Oh, and I forgot to tell you about the excitement we add at T minus two hours to our departure for the airport Wednesday morning! After spending two weeks, with two little boys in my parents two bedroom apartment, I thought it might be a nice gesture to not just pick-up our mess, but do some cleaning before we left. The night before I had almost finished packing (3 of our 4 suitcases) and just had one last load of laundry to do and add to the last suitcase. We started the morning off well. I made phonecalls, sent a few emails, wrote a few letters, organized the last few items, started that load of laundry and even got it into the dryer. We were ahead of schedule. The boys were good, Thibault was napping, Damien had already napped. Things looked good. So I decided to clean the bathroom. I had done the bathtub, toilet and mirror. Just needed to do the sink and counter and pass the vacuum cleaner. So I did the sink, then did the counter, and thought, why don’t I wash the glass that holds the toothbrushes. Only the glass was tall and the width was narrow. I used the sponge to reach the bottom and then as I grabbed the sponge to pull it up and out, crack went the glass and cut was my pinky finger! Super! Traveling isn’t enough fun with two boys aged 2 years and 9 months, so lets add another feature just to spice it up again. My parents are lucky that they have nice neighbors. I called my mom and she came home briefly between closing her store and going to her demonstration in Portsmouth. Jill, the nice, friendly neighbor living three floors up came over with her daughter instead of bringing her to school, to watch Thibault and Damien and feed them lunch, while Maman dropped me off at the ER.
The cut was not too bad. the glass just cut a flap of skin off, which thankfully was still attached at the bottom. there was no glass in the cut and since I put pressure on the cut immediately there was not a lot of blood. Great! But I wanted to get it checked out because I was afraid that with the lifting of heavy suitcases and my two boys, and taking the airplane, that the cut would re-open and I’d bleed everywhere. So, Nurse Mary-Ellen, glued the flap, no stitches needed and bandaged we up with a splint, more for protection that for necessity and I was out of the ER within the hour, giving us exactly 30 minutes to finish packing and be on our way. Needless to say that the morning and our approaching departure thus became a bit stressful.
But, if you are reading this, we obviously made our flight and made it home safe. I had to re-do the bandage about three times during our flight, and the cut did bleed twice, but just a little. The wound doesn’t hurt too bad, just a slight burn, which becomes a bit more acute when Thibault grabs my hand or I bend my fingers to pick up Damien. Everyone at Logan Airport was very helpful, even the Homeland Security officers, which is the first time I see such friendly guys with no attitude problems, and the stewards of our crew on our Air France flight 337 were stellar in service and courtesy for this mother of two traveling alone with the loss of use in one hand, her good one, the right/write hand. Even the passengers were nice and friendly and three called me a Heroine! And in my current state of disillusion, extreme fatigue and delirium, I can’t help finding this word ironic – for the same word (though spelled without the ‘e’) is used for that which leaves one addicted and consumed by the same symptoms as Jet-lag?