Gigi's Big Adventure

Today was Gigi's last day with us.  The plan was to meet my ex-wife Melissa at the airport at 10:50 and hand her off.  I have been advocating that Gigi is getting to the point that she could fly solo as long as it was a direct flight.  Melissa has been dead set against this.

This morning, as I was running around trying to organize things for my mom who was watching Lex & Loki, the phone rang.  It was 8:20 and it was my ex.  I knew her flight was scheduled to depart at 8:30 (7:30 Central) and I had a feeling of dread.  I answered as usually do, saying hold on and immediately handing the phone to Gigi.  Studies have shown that exposure to radioactive waste and cigarette smoke can shorten your life-span.  Dealing with my ex falls squarely between those carcinogens.  As Gigi handed the phone back to me, the dread grew.

"They won't let me board the flight," she said.

"You mean you were late and missed your flight."  You know that episode of Seinfeld where Elaine tries to see what is in her medical chart?  The airlines have that kinda file on my ex.  She consistently and habitually pushes the envelope on getting to the airport on time.  The beauty of it is she now lives less than 10 minutes from the airport she uses, so she can't even use traffic as an excuse.

"Let's not argue.  I need you to tell her she's going to have to fly back alone."

"No, you're telling her."  I was not about to be the brunt of that emotional outburst.  Bad enough, I was the one who had to deal with the fallout.  I handed the phone back to Gigi and within seconds she was screaming and crying.  Then, conveniently, Melissa's cell phone lost cell reception.  I talked Gigi down, calming her down to the point she could breathe again.  I explained that there was nothing I could do about this, but that we would make the best of it.  I told her we would leave for the airport early and talk to the airline and see if she could sit up front with a stewardess or that we would look for a family that was travelling that had kids her age and explain the situation and have them "adopt" her for the flight.  She had a haunted look on her face, but seemed okay.  The phone rang again and it was Melissa.  I handed the phone to Gigi and listened to her howl at Melissa that she didn't want to fly alone.  After a few minutes, again the cell reception died.  Once again, I calmed her down and told her we would make the best of it.

She was freaked now, more-so than earlier.  Lex & Loki tried to comfort her the best they could as I called Kitten to tell her the news.  Lex sang the 'Gigi song' (a variation of the 'Loki song' he sings when Loki is crying) and Loki hugged Gigi.  The three of us calmed her down again and the phone rang again.  Melissa said she would talk to her calmly.  I handed the phone back and they talked for a few minutes and then Gigi hung up.  She threw herself, howling onto the couch screaming she didn't want to go alone and that I couldn't make her.  She demanded a lawyer!  I sat her down on my lap and told her that she needed to be a big girl and that I sympathized with her being scared.  Five minutes of calmness and soothing got us back to pseudo-normal.

I answered and Melissa asked to speak to her.  I told her no, that each time I calmed Gigi down, she just riled her up again.  Melissa told me the name of the terminal manager that I needed to talk to when I got to the airport.  I asked her why she couldn't just fly later in the day or a different day.  She couldn't afford to pay the transfer fee and couldn't afford to miss more work.  I just had to convince Gigi to fly solo.  I told her she needed to come clean about missing the flight and again she lay the blame on the airline.  I finally relented and handed the phone to Gigi.  They talked and towards the end of the conversation, Gigi began relaying information to me.  The airline was going to block out the seat next to her so she would have the aisle to herself.  I had to fill out unaccompanied minor paperwork at the ticket counter.  And then the kicker.  "Mom says we should leave so we get to the airport an hour ahead of time."

Really?  Wow!  What a concept!  "If she had done that, we wouldn't be having this conversation."  I snapped back.

I packed her a little survival kit for the drive and the flight.  Water and a granola bar, her DS, a couple books.

We left shortly afterwards for the airport.  My mom had told Gigi that it was going to be an adventure and that she would be fine (ironic, seeing as my mom has NEVER flown).  We left the house 2 1/2 hours before her flight left.  We hit traffic.  We had trouble finding parking.  Guess what?  We were at the ticket counter an hour before her flight was scheduled to leave.  I explained to the clerk what was going on and I filled out the paperwork and Gigi met Gina, the terminal manager and Gina explained that she was going to meet us down at the gate and get Gigi situated.  We went through Security, where I was told I couldn't leave the terminal until her flight was in the air.  Made sense.  We got to the gate and spent a few minutes buying snacks and sundries.  Gina appeared and paged us and before I really had a chance to say good-bye.  I gave her a hug and a kiss and wished her good luck.

I had to wait about 15 minutes for the rest of the passengers to embark and then I was sitting in the terminal alone.  Gina let me know that Gigi was doing OK and that Gigi had even admitted that she has flown hundreds of times before, just never alone.  The stewardesses were taking care of her and she was sitting in the front row all by herself.  I explained to Gina that I thought Gigi was old enough to fly solo, but it was my ex that was, ironically, against it.  The second I said 'ex-wife', Gina opened up and told me everything that happened with my ex at the airport on the other end.  She had arrived at the ticket counter at 7:20 for the 7:30 flight and when they turned her away she had a hissy fit.  Freak was the word that the ticket agent there used to describe her.  Gina commented that I seemed like such a nice guy and asked me what was I thinking?  I laughed, having heard echoes of the question for years now.

Gigi's flight left 10 minutes early and the airline said that her flight was going to land a full 30 minutes early, so I called Melissa to give her a heads up.  She still managed to be late to pick Gigi up.  Gigi's flight landed at 1:15 and from what Gina had told me, Gigi would have been the 1st one off the plane.  By 1:40, I hadn't heard from her so I called Melissa and she explained that she was still in the security line waiting to get through.  She ended up getting Gigi over 30 minutes after she got off the plane.

Gigi is doing OK and admitted to me tonight that she was OK doing it, but doesn't want to fly alone in the winter in case there's a snowstorm.  I told her not to stress about things and just bask in the fact that she did it today and that she's stronger than she thought.

A Walk In The Hood

I'm home this week with the kids. Our daycare provider is on vacation and thus so am I. We also decided to not put my oldest, Gigi, in summer camp this week. Handling all three of the kids can be a challenge, but I had a plan. Kim took yesterday off and we all went school shopping. We made a day of it and had a great time. My plan for today was to have my mom come out and join the kids and I as we ran our errands (usually Target, the dairy and the library). My mom usually buys us lunch and then offers to "watch" the kids as they nap so I can get out for a bit.

My mom called yesterday to let me know she wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be visiting. OK. So slight change. Kim went to Target, leaving me with only the library today. I decided the best strategy was to tire the kids out.

"We're walking to the library" I announced. It's a one mile walk. It's a sunny day. All good, right? Not so much. Gigi wanted no part of this. I offered to let her stay home, but she wanted no part of that either. "Why do we have to walk?" Before I could respond Lex chimed in "Me like walking and Daddy said we were." Thank you Little Man. More grumbling as Gigi wanted to wear her brand new shoes. I said "No, wear your old ones because you need to break them in before you walk a mile in them."

"You're being mean." Gigi started to stomp off.

"Fine. Wear them, but when you get blisters and your feet hurt on the way home, I don't want to hear it." She wizened up (slightly) and wore flip-flops. We packed up our books and headed out. Gigi wanted to read a book as we walked and I told her to be careful. 250 feet later, she tripped and slammed into me. "Urggh! Why do we have to walk? It's too dangerous to walk."

I wanted to say "Uhm, maybe if you didn't have your nose in a book, you'd be okay." but I didn't. I did offer to let her stay home, but again, she declined.

Lex had a field day walking to the library. Every fire hydrant we passed, he tried to turn on. He picked up a piece of Styrofoam and flew it around as a plane. He acted as our scout, looking for cars at each and every crosswalk and he pressed the crosswalk crossing light buttons. Most importantly, he responded to every negative comment Gigi made with a cheery "Me like walking!"

Loki also enjoyed the trip. She got to ride in style as I took the stroller. She waved to every person we saw, but sadly in our neighborhood, no one waved back.

Gigi huffed and puffed the first 10 minutes until I explained to her that when I was her age, I routinely walked 2 1/2 miles to my library. She retorted "This is my week of rest and relaxation!" I'm sure I'll remember that tonight when it's bedtime. 'Can I stay up later?' 'No, sorry, this is your week of resting.'

We made it to the library with a minimum of additional grumbling.  Maybe half-a-dozen "are we there yet?" and a handful of exasperated sighs.

Once at the library, Lex began his library ritual.  We walk in, he yells at the cardboard cut-out of the T-Rex in the lobby and we proceed to the book drop.  Lex returns all of our books and then dashes off to the water bubbler.  Once his thirst is slaked, he runs off to the library registration desk and says hi to the clerk.  Occasionally, he will stop and chat with the clerk, sometimes drawing them a picture.  Today, as he ran by and said hello, Gigi let out a frustrated grunt and said "Stop it" to Little Man.  I asked her what was wrong.  "He's embarrassing me."  Really, by being friendly and out-going?  "He shouldn't be just saying hi to anyone he sees."  The problem here is that Gigi is severely introverted.  She won't ask a librarian to help her; doesn't talk to people unless spoken to and even then it's mono-syllabic.  Little Man, on the other hand, is going to be a politician.  He has no trouble interacting with complete strangers and happily, he is 100% polite about it.  Perfect example, this weekend, while at a State Park celebrating a friend's birthday party, Lex wandered off.  I saw him going and followed at a safe distance to see what he was doing.  He walked up to a lady who was walking her dogs.  He said something to her and she said something back.  He proceeded to pet the dog.  I approached and asked Lex if had asked if it was okay to pet the dog.  The woman said that he had asked quite politely if he could.  Earlier in the week, when we were at Border's he offered to share his cookie with a woman.

We gathered up our books and after checking out began our trek home.  I chose a much less hillier route to get us home.  Even with this, our journey was punctuated again by Gigi's litany of complaints.  I offered to let her wait on the stoop of an abandoned warehouse and I would drive back once I got home with the kids.  She quickly stopped complaining.  For about 3 minutes.  Lex picked up on her incessant complaining and started saying how tired he was.  Lex, Loki and I had made this same trip twice previously with no complaints, so I am annoyed that Gigi's complaining has rubbed off on him.  Hopefully once she has returned to WI, her influence will wear off.

I want to raise my kids to be self-sufficient.  I want them to feel like they can talk to librarians.  I want them to be able to stay home at 10 years old and not be afraid.  I want them to be able to walk a mile and not feel like they're stepping into the Richard Bachman book The Long Walk.