3 adults, 2 kids, 10 50.5 pound bags, 4 carry-ons, 2 car seats, 2 cars, 2 planes, 3 airports, 1 chartered bus, 41 hours.
Our biggest initial stress is getting the bags checked in; each one is carefully weighed and measured with very little room for error. And navigating every few feet is a challenge. Grace and I are both on edge with butterfly stress. Having all that baggage is like having, um, baggage.
The kids are pretty wiped out by the time we make it to our plane. Isabel wants to sit next to her brother like a big girl, rejecting the car seat, and like an idiot I listen. On the plane from London, however, lessons have been learned and things go much more smoothly. It seems as though I am constantly learning this lesson; do not take your orders from a two year old.
Dad and Ella pick us up in the chartered 9-seat bus. No seatbelts. We strap the car-seats on the top with the luggage and settle in for a miserable ride with small children wriggling on every surface. Again, a trip to the Department of Lessons Learned. After a few torturous hours we tie those things down for some much needed sleep.
Our driver must be excited to be getting home, as the mountainous curves and heart breaking drop offs seem to inspire him to step on the gas. Horse to barn syndrome.
But after 41 hours of travel, our new home is a welcome oasis.
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