Home again, home again, jiggety jog

What can I say about our trip home?

We spent a lot of time waiting...

...drank--and spilled--enough beverages to float an ark...

...did some reading...

...and more reading...

...lots of snacking...

...and stacking...

...more waiting...

...and even some sleeping.

In our 27 hours in transit, Michael ate his way through more fruit roll-ups and lollipops than a child should eat in a year--maybe in a lifetime--littered airports and airplanes with Cheerios and vegetable-flavored sticks, read Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb and Peek-a-Who 500 times, and took a series of 10-minute naps, awakening at the end of each one uncomfortable, grumpy, but crying so quietly that only his parents were disturbed. Thank goodness for loud planes.

He was downright amazing--to the point where people came up to compliment us on his behavior. This was a totally new experience for us. I was sure he would scream on take-off and landing (and maybe in between), but as we were touching down on our first flight with him, I was stressing about the screaming that was due to come, and John said, "He's not going to scream."

"How do you know?" I asked, trying to force a 27th lollipop on my son.

"I just know," he said.

And, once again, Baba was right about this little guy, who even made sure we got our share of the Cheerios supply.

 

Now, don't get me wrong. Travel is rough and travel with a toddler you just met a week earlier--and who only understands some of what you say--is particularly challenging. But we went into the experience with very low expectations, and Michael really shined.

John and I, of course, were misery personified, complaining about the airline (they tried to seat us in three separate parts of the plane for the trip home), the airline food (still not sure whether that was tuna or ham), and U.S. immigration (they know more about us than most of our closest friends, but they still made us wait forever until I announced loudly that my son had been traveling for 30 hours straight and would someone please help us). You could probably hear us complaining from your house, we were so unhappy at some points--and yes, that was John who yelped when an entire can of apple juice spilled all over him and his seat in the first hour of our 13-hour flight.

But Michael? The child who had no idea what this journey was about and never signed on for this day in purgatory?



He was an absolute dream.


He didn't want to watch airplanes take off, but he thought the airports were fantastic. Collecting the luggage at baggage claim made him laugh.

He wanted to walk around the airports, which gave us a break from carrying him--and exercise from chasing him. He happily played with Baba while we waited--for planes, for luggage, for tickets, for the million things you wait for when you travel.

He was remarkably relaxed about the whole experience.

And he didn't complain that he hardly had a decent meal the whole day.

(No, we didn't eat there. We just thought it was funny to see a Kenny Rogers Roasters in the Beijing airport.)

Again this trip we realized how wonderful the Chinese airlines are, how gracious everyone we interact with in China is, and how Americans just don't treat you the same way.

Right before we boarded the plane from Beijing to the U.S., there were these immaculately attired Chinese officials and airport workers who smiled and greeted us, wishing us a pleasant journey, treating us like nobility, and gushing over our little boy. Two minutes and five steps later John showed our tickets to a U.S. flight attendant, who shrugged her shoulders, sighed in exasperation, and told him to walk the long way to get to the seats.

It was our first taste of home.

When we touched ground at the U.S. and handed our paperwork over to the immigration officer, Michael became an American citizen. I teared up when we touched down, knowing that we were finally home.

What a journey it was.

Our plane arrived home more than an hour early--early enough that we might have asked Louis to come meet us if we had known in advance. My father picked us up at the airport and drove us home, getting lost in D.C. on the way. Michael slept as we drove past the Washington Monument. All we wanted was to be home with Louis, who made a sign for our arrival.

Aunt Treasa took these photos before Louis went to bed--but not, as it turned out, to sleep.

When we got home, Michael woke up. We went inside and Michael immediately wanted to play with the toys all over the living room.

 

We went upstairs to see Louis, who was tired, confused, and a little shy and sad. It was a lot to throw at our boy at once--the introduction of his new brother, his parents--both in tears--returning home after two weeks away, and all while he was half-awake. So we tried to settle him back in bed and come back downstairs. But it just didn't feel right. So I went back in to see him and noticed his stuffed snake was missing from the bed. Joined by Baba and Michael, we went on a snake hunt through the house, finally finding him behind the couch. It was the perfect ice breaker.

Before we knew it, everyone was playing together in the living room and Baba was producing a diesel engine we bought for Louis in China. It even has a voice that says "All aboard" in Chinese. At least that's what we think it says.

Then Louis showed Michael how to play with some of the baby toys.

Michael couldn't take his eyes off his big brother. Neither could we. He looks so big and so grown-up. We just couldn't get enough of him--and of seeing our sons together.

Two trips to the other side of the world...14,000 or so miles of travel...and here are these two boys playing side by side in our home.

By midnight we had both boys in bed and we fell asleep. Michael woke several times (he's still on China time) and ended up in our bed pretty early on. We'll see how tonight goes. I have very low expectations. Three of us are jet-lagged, one of us hates sleeping in his crib, and two of us are sick.

Still, today ended up being a lot of fun.

Louis likes to do what Michael does. Michael likes to do what Louis does. That part is great--except when Michael put noodles in his hair tonight at dinner and Louis had to do the same.


And they both enjoy the Chinese snacks we brought home.

 

And they love hanging out with Baba--and so far have been sharing him pretty well.

 
We're already realizing this house is not child-proof against a 20-month-old Michael--and he knows it.
 

But we can also see him fitting into our daily life pretty smoothly. He and Louis have started racing together around the racing wall Louis likes on the first floor.


One of our friends sent us some beautiful cupcakes and the boys scrambled to get to the table to try them.

 Baba soon had Louis laughing with some game.

And Michael just watched and laughed and laughed and laughed. He is obviously a huge fan of his big brother.

As we were putting Louis to bed tonight, I said to him, "Do you think it will be fun to be a big brother?"

"Yes," he said, shaking his head no and grinning at me.

That's our Louis. And somehow I think it won't be long before he has this little guy pulling the same shenanigans.

Welcome home, Michael!