From Little Rock with Love

Last week, I broke the news to my husband. I needed to start traveling for work again; the first trip was on Thursday; destination: Little Rock, Arkansas.

Bummer, he said. That's our anniversary. 

My mind had been moving so fast at work and at home, that I had forgotten to line up the dates. I frowned and got a little teary eyed with disappointment.

Oh. no. 

I reassured him (and myself) that it was an in and out thing; that I would be back by 8:00 PM; and that we would end the day the way we had started our wedding celebration; with a champagne toast.

That Thursday, I woke up bright and early to squeeze in a run before my flight to the land of Bill and Hillary. Afterward, in an effort to ensure Bobby had enough milk for the day, I pumped in the kitchen as Peter descended the stairs to wish me a happy anniversary. Given my bovine appearance, thinking back on how glamorous I looked four years ago, I felt bad. Sorry, honey.

The kids woke up shortly after, right before I needed to head to the airport. Ten minutes of flurried chaos ensued. I gave an abrupt goodbye to everyone in the house. And sped as fast as any parked car on a Chicago Interstate could to O'Hare.

In the never-ending security line, I thought back on the morning spent with my girls, getting my hair curled, make up done, and dress zipped, buttoned, and clasped. I thought about my Dad looping his arm around mine, escorting me down the aisle, and handing me off to my Prince. I thought about all the people in the congregation, enveloping us in their love, making our day feel a little more like heaven.

35,000 feet in the air, I thought about drinking Veuve in Mellon Park, the ballroom doors of the Fairmont opening for us, icing, chocolate, more champagne, and the best dance party the Knot.com failed to document.

Driving through Clinton-ville to Conway, Arkansas, I thought about our European escape; the decadence of Monte Carlo, the views from Eze, the posh beaches and Picassos of Antibes, the dazzling lights of Paris, yachts, water skies, lavender, triple creams, saucissons, strawberries and even more champagne shared with my favorite travel partner.

Throughout my meeting, my mind wandered to the walls, stairs, and doorways of the houses we have owned.  I thought about the delicious dinners and corresponding dialogue we've shared; from rigorous to endearing. I thought about delivery rooms, nurseries, and the milestones that have punctuated the little lives we've made. I thought about tears, hugs, stress and laughter.

I thought about how lucky I was to have stumbled into a classroom, then a chapel, then a bar, and then a boat with the person who undeniably was the match for me.

As I drove back to the airport that evening, then waited for the gate agent to assign my seat, I thought about the sound our flutes would make as they sounded our humble, yet bubbly celebration. However, my mind flew back to reality when United said ...

We're oversold. Looking for volunteers. $250 travel voucher. Come see me. 

Crap. I had no seat and there is no room left. More and more and more business men getting on. Consultant after consultant. Damn consultants. No volunteers. Crap. Crap. Stronger words.

That's everyone. Sorry, honey. This was the fifth flight today that was oversold. For future reference, you should never book a ticket that doesn't have a guaranteed seat. 

Arguing didn't even register in my mind, I went straight for tears. Pitiful, I'm missing my wedding anniversary, I'm the food source for my seven-month-old, I'm hormonal and tired tears. I was hustled to American. They were oversold too. I was hustled back to United. They couldn't even get me out on Friday. I was urged to return to American. I could get out at 9:00 AM on Friday. The tears showed no signs of withdrawal. I conceded my ability to ever show my face in Little Rock again. (Sorry, boss, next trip's for you.) As the gate agent tried to find me a room at the Economy Inn, I heard a last call for American Flight get-me-out-of-here at Gate 3. Robert so-and-so had one minute before the gate was closing. I ditched United and sprinted down the terminal to beat Robert to the punch, and somehow, miraculously, found myself in seat 16A, going home to see my hubby on our anniversary.

My romantic idea of surprising Peter turned into him thinking I was a burglar, Mary screaming, and me putting her back to sleep. By the time I made it to bed, Peter was nodding off and I couldn't wait to close my eyes as well. There was a kiss goodnight, but no champagne.

A day later, en route to the place that started it all for us, we laughed about my adventures in Arkansas as Mary and Bobby were lulled to sleep by the holiday weekend commuters. In a way, I wasn't phased by our lack of formal celebration. Thanks to the grandparents, there would be a night out and a babysitter in our near future. I was just thankful to be in the same state, in the same car, on the same page of life as the love of my life, looking forward to a long holiday weekend. Looking forward to sharing a lifetime more of frameable memories that I can browse through on future flights home.

Lo. 

Married Poppins

At the end of Disney's musical masterpiece, Mary Poppins, as the wind changes from East to West, the Banks Family's beloved Nanny opens up her chatty umbrella and flies away. Above the kites, above the clouds, she floats away to powder her nose from a celestial nest, waiting for the next opportunity to infuse her magic into another troubled household.

The ending is ambiguous though; a departure from the typical happily ever after for which Disney is known. And as a kid with a deep love and appreciation for my marvelous nannies, I was always disappointed with the film's finale. How could she just leave them? Who would fill her lavender shoes? And what about poor Bert?

Yesterday, I witnessed an alternate ending to the film; one that provided a more romantic rationale for Mary Poppins' abrupt departure; one that secured a return date in the minds of the children who love her so much; and one where Bert finally seals the deal.  

As it went, Mary Poppins did drift off to cloud nine, but her feet stayed firmly on the ground while a hula hoop circled her waist.

She ended up marrying Bert. And on their special day, he traded in his chimney sweep ensemble for a camouflage tuxedo. Black and white was for the penguins.

There were many, many spoonfuls of sugar ... 

... scoops of ice cream, bites of cookies, and forkfuls of velvety chocolate layer cake.


Bert left his one man band at home and let the Mariachis carry the beat ...

... while everyone stepped and shuffled in time.

Butterflies were naturally drawn to the occasion,

kites flew,

and the food, oh the food(!), was far better than anything a pack of penguins would have ultimately served.

But despite my reassurance, I could tell, knowing Disney's ending, Mary was a little unsure as Eva and Cavan rode off from the ceremony in their Just Married branded golf cart following the ceremony.

'Where's Eva going, Mommy? Where's Eva going?' Mary asked me over and over again.
'She's just going on a little ride with Cavan. She'll be back to dance, and to cut the cake, and to celebrate.'
'Where's Eva going, Mommy?' 'I want Eva, Mommy.' 
I could see the tears start to well up in her eyes. She understood the end of her favorite movies and the conclusion of Mary Poppins for that matter, in her little mind she was starting to consider that Eva's happily ever after might not include Mary.
She'll be back, honey. Don't worry.
A couple minutes later, Mary spotted Eva on the dance floor and ran over to give her a hug. Feeling her embrace, her worries subsided. And the rest of the night, she ate Tacos Pastor, dressed up in the photo booth, explored the lush gardenscape, hula hooped, and dashed between her heaping bowl of ice cream and the dance floor.

It was an awesome day; beautiful ceremony, pulsing party, ultimate fiesta for a foodie, and the best time I've had out in a while.

Eva, we love you so much and are so happy that you found your Bert. The kind of partner you can share your life, love, laughter, kitchen, dance floor, hula hoop, Harry Potter books, Star Wars episodes, and tie dye patterns with. And thank you for inviting us to share such a magical day with you.

(And SNAP!) The rest of the pictures follow.

   

     

AND ... a big thank you to Nana and Mimi for filling some big shoes while Eva celebrated her jolly holiday.

Lo.