I think when we left off I was crying.
Crying about my screaming baby. And about the way the trip wasn’t anything like I expected.
I thought it would be a vacation. You know, you remember what those are like – sleeping in, laughing, having fun, eating out, relaxing showers, maybe a massage.
Instead it was MORE work than home. Now there were dishes for 10 instead of 4. There was laundry but no hamper and no basket so it had to be dealt with immediately. There wasn’t enough hot water for more than 2 or 3 people to shower at a time, so even that was rationed. There were only two small tvs – one in the living area and one in my parent’s room so my boys couldn’t play the Wii like we had planned . . . or easily watch a movie . . . at least not while the adults were doing anything but sleeping!
You would think I would know better. I’m a mother of three boys. I have tried taking a baby on vacation before. We did a family trip this summer that was more of a workout than a vacation. But I thought it would be different and it wasn’t.
We had some great times. We played Password at night after everyone was asleep and laughed and laughed at each other. We were able to sit at a table multiple times a day and eat meals together as extended family. The view was truly out of this world. One day, my mom, sister and oldest niece went in to a local town with me. We got Starbucks . . . and Taco Bell and shopped while the kid snapped with my hubby. That was fun.
But my baby was still screaming. The happy baby who is an angel and who I thought would be no trouble at all on this trip because he’s generally no trouble at all, period. Yes, he’s screaming at the top of his lungs with real tears and frequently a purple face. Knowing I couldn’t take it for 18 hours in a car and that my brother might have a mental breakdown if he had to drive and hear it for that long, I purchased a plane ticket to fly home with my parents.
In the end, we all decided to pack up and leave the mountain cabin one day earlier than planned. My brother and the girls hit the road and the rest of us grabbed a hotel room in Durango where Joey and Colt were flying out the next morning. Coincidentally, this was the city where the Polar Express train was located. It was now the day after Christmas but I thought it might be worth seeing what they could offer me for my $500+ credit.
The man at the window was helpful and said the Polar Express was still running and we could easily get tickets for that night’s performance. Thrilled I asked for the nicest tickets they had, knowing that I was still not going to be able to spend the leftover amount from my brother and his girls’ tickets. Once he printed the tickets, he informed me that I still had a credit of $260!
That’s a LOT of money in my world. A LOT! I asked if I could use it in the gift shop. No. He offered to put it on our account for a year to be used any time in that year. Um, no. I’m not coming back to Colorado with my three children anytime soon, let alone in the next 12 months.
Finally a lady came up behind him punched a few buttons and then handed me a receipt showing a $260 credit on my card! Thank you Jesus!!! What a blessing.
We left the train station with tickets in hand, $260 in the bank and hungry tummies. We ate lunch and then I took Weston to the acute care clinic we passed on the way into town. I just knew there had to be something wrong with him.
Sure enough, it took just a minute for the doctor to announce that he had infections in both ears, but the left ear was so bad that the ear drum might rupture before we could get the medicine to work. Poor baby! No wonder he was screaming.
We started him on meds, numbed him up as much as possible and got ready to hop on the Polar Express . . .