Holy Crap, We’re Home

July 14, 2007 at 11:48 pm | Posted in AdoptThis!, M'ijo | 79 Comments

Of course (this is our life we’re talking about) this couldn’t happen without complications…

On Thursday night, after our fabulous Guatemalan playdate (pictures coming soon, I promise) I came down with a serious case of Tecún Umán’s revenge. The only thing I ate on Thursday that Pili did not also partake of was a limonada con soda at Cafe Condessa. Antiguans, consider yourself warned. Pili was left to pack all of our bags and care for the baby while I lay in bed, moaning and upchucking. [Note: Not fun for anyone, downright scary for a Person With Diabetes.  Bernard’s gift of gatorade powder was much appreciated]

In desperation, she called Delta and tried to see if we could rebook our flights for a day or two later to give me time to recuperate. Unfortunately the pinche rented cell phone cut out while she was on hold with the Delta representative, and we assumed that nothing had been changed, and we would go ahead with our travel plans, barf bags in hand.

[12 hours later. Location: The Guatemala City airport, Delta ticket counter]

Pepito, far more socially adept than either of his mothers, smiles and flirts with the ticket agent. She studiously ignores him – hay un problema con su reservación. Turns out that the Delta rep had actually changed the flight. We are now scheduled to leave GC on Sunday! The agent is able to get us back on the Friday flight to Atlanta, but there are no seats available to our home on the connecting flight. We can stay overnight in Atlanta and get on an early morning flight on Saturday. Pili bravely holds down the fort. ArtSweet, bent over a garbage can in the airport, weakly signals her approval of this plan. Pepito, failing to get the ticket agent’s attention, throws his lovie (thank you, auntie Mel!) at her and clocks her in the jaw. She allows as how Él es un carácter.

P’ito is a trooper on the flight. Take off and landing is no problem, but sitting in one place when the seatbelt sign is on is cause for a meltdown of nuclear proportions. Fortunately the missionaries sitting behind us are tolerant and Guatemalans love children, even when they’re screaming at the top of their lungs.

We land and clear immigration, where he officially becomes a U.S. citizen, with no problems, and then spend two hours trying to exit the Atlanta airport and get to our hotel. These hours include the Worst Poopy Diaper Ever and the Skankiest Changing Station Ever – at least according to Pili. I was sitting on the luggage cart, clutching my still aching head, and wondering what the hell was taking so long while she attempted to figure out how that clever baby got poop everywhere.

We get to the hotel, where I eat solid food for the first time in 36 hours. Miraculously, it stays down. Sleep for five hours, and get up to race back to the world’s most complicated airport. Arrive home, after a less than pleasant flight on a small plane with a teething baby, to a fabulous greeting team from our hometown friends, and a home festooned with “It’s a boy!” and “Welcome home!” banners.

Photos, a report on P’ito’s first playdate, a bunch of memes, and some serious blog commenting coming later… off to make a bottle – with water from the tap! It’s amazing what you learn to appreciate…