The alarm went off at six in the morning on Saturday.
I'm ashamed to say that I cursed.
Oh, did I curse.
I went, "What the FRICK is going on?"
Only I didn't use the word frick. I used the real f-word that I only ever use when I'm upset. This is how people tend to know that I'm angry: when the profanity escapes my lips.
The reason why I was livid was because my plan was to wake up at 6:30 and be ready to go at 7. I can do this. I did it when I traveled alone with the kids to see Tom graduate for dog training school.
Apparently Tom didn't believe that I'd be ready to go. So he set the alarm for six.
"There is no way you'll be ready by seven if I had set it for six thirty," Tom told me matter-of-factly as he turned the alarm clock off.
"YES I WOULD HAVE! I DID IT LAST TIME!" I seriously believe I was speaking in caps at that point. I am not a morning person in the least. I wish I could wake up and smile and greet the world pleasantly but it's just not in my DNA. My own father doesn't wake up early and will emerge from his room around noon. I think I got it from him.
"There is no way you'll be ready by seven," Tom tried again. He was beginning to look a little nervous. He doesn't like it when I get that angry. Sometimes he likes to joke, "Ohhh, Amber's mad, she used the f-word..."
"I'M SLEEPING UNTIL SIX THIRTY!" I boomed and then placed my head back on the pillow, snapped the covers up around me and closed my eyes.
Tom got the message and left from the room. He did say in a sharp voice, "If you're not ready by seven, I'm leaving."
I gave him the finger as he left the room.
Not a pleasant person in the morning.
I am not proud of this fact.
Normally I'm quite cheerful and friendly. When I get adequate sleep, that is.
Tom came and got me at six thirty.
I cracked one eye open and groaned. Then I forced myself to get up, threw on my clothes, and went to go get the kids.
Tommy was already wide awake. The second I opened his door he shot out of bed, already clothed.
"Are we going on an airplane today? Are we going to see Nona and Papa? When are we going to the beach? Do we get to go in the beach right away or do we have to wait? Are we having McDonalds at the airport? Can I get a McGriddle? Or wait, do I want pancakes?" Tommy didn't seem to pause for a breath and I stared at him wondering if he really did come from my loins. How could he be so alert at six thirty in the morning?
When I got Natalie, she proved that she did indeed come from me. The second I got her up she closed her eyes again and covered her ears.
"Natalie. Time to get dressed," I said softly.
"NO!" she screeched, also talking in caps.
Yup. She's not a morning person either.
I managed to shove her limp muscles in her clothes. She reminded me of a rag doll. Then I carried her downstairs and placed her on the couch where she promptly stuck her thumb in her mouth and stared at us all as though we were imbeciles.
Guess what? We left at seven. Actually, it was six fifty eight but who's counting?
I gave Tom a knowing look as he backed the car from the driveway and he acted as though he didn't see it.
When we got to the Denver airport to check in Tom started grumbling about my suitcase.
"It's too heavy, what do you have in here, now we're going to be charged because it's so heavy!" he complained.
I ignored him.
By the way, it wasn't too heavy. I think we were 5 pounds under the limit.
Boo-yah, Tom. Boo-yah.
Of course then Tom snapped at me again as we went through security when I said I had to dump out Natalie's water.
"Why can't you PLAN?" he yelled.
"Um. The trash cans are right there up front. When we pass them I'll dump it out," I reminded him.
Tom is not a pleasant person to travel with. We could never do The Amazing Race together. We'd totally scream and fight and then the tabloids would say that we were in an unhealthy relationship. This is why I don't flinch when I see husbands and wives screeching at each other on The Amazing Race because I know Tom and I would be doing the same thing. He'd be all, "Pick up your feet, we need to GET THERE!" and I'd scream back that if he didn't shut up that I'd stick my shoe way up his ass.
After we got through security Tom took a deep breath and hugged me to him.
"Now I can relax," Tom said. "Sorry I was mean."
Well. See, we do apologize to one another. That's something, I guess.
We just had one final fight and this was when we were walking to our gate. Tom was moving way too quickly for me--I had on a heavy backpack filled with kid crap and yes, Tom had a heavy backpack too (with my books and laptop) plus his own bag--he was still able to move swiftly but I was lagging behind gasping for air. See, Tom is trained to carry heavy stuff. I am not. So he walks with pounds and pounds of crap on his back as though it's nothing.
"Come on," Tom urged, about five feet in front of me.
"I....can't..." I gasped. I felt like my tongue was hanging out of my mouth.
"Yes you can. You're going too slow," Tom said.
I frowned. "You know. Actually, traveling WITHOUT you was much more enjoyable," I said in an icy tone.
I saw Tom flinch briefly but he just picked up the pace.
Oops. That was mean. But, geez, he knows I don't move that fast. And why did he have to rush? We still had an hour left before our flight was set to depart.
Tom was sitting on some chairs with Natalie when I got there with Tommy. He was calmly flipping through one of my US Weeklys as I approached. Oh, and he was clearly ignoring me.
"Sorry," I said, flopping down beside him. "I didn't mean it."
He pretended to be interested in an article about Jessica Simpson.
"You just can't rush me," I explained as Natalie crawled in my lap.
"Mmm," is all Tom offered.
Oh fine. If he could ignore me, I could ignore him. So I pulled out a book and read it to Natalie.
Then about ten minutes later I felt a squeeze on my leg. Tom. See, with Tom, when he's pouting, you have to leave him alone for a little bit until he decides that he's finished being pissed. Then all is okay again.
I'm pleased to say that the kids were angels for the flight. Natalie was still miffed about her seatbelt but Tom just tossed her his famous stern look and she promptly quieted and allowed the seatbelt to snap around her.
I freaked out once because suddenly a loud noise filled the plane and I was sure we were all going to plummet to our deaths but Tom calmly said, "Those would be the flaps coming down."
But then I went, "Are you sure? It sounds as though we're...oh my God, we just did a MASSIVE drop," I said, gripping my armrests.
"Amber. We're landing," Tom said.
"But we're landing too fast! We're going to go on an island like the one on Lost and I'd probably be Claire because I don't know enough about forest life to be Kate. You can be Charlie even though you don't play in a band but you're more like Charlie than Jack and you can't be Sawyer because you're not a con-artist and never could be because you totally smirk when you lie. Maybe you could be Hurley only you're not fat and--" I rambled.
"Amber Stop! This is by far one of the weirdest things you've ever said to me," Tom said, holding up his hand. "Plus, we've landed. I give the pilot an A plus for landing."
Tom always grades the pilots on how they land. I didn't even notice that we had landed so the pilot does deserve an A plus.
Then we got off the plane and there was my Mom, waiting for us!
More to come tomorrow. I'll write all about going to church for the first time in years and making it to the beach.