We traveled to San Antonio on Saturday to meet our family’s growing brood, Sara and Xavier. We knew from our past travels to and from San Antonio that a car trip with the RaJenBabies, a trip intended to be a quick one, would not be so. So we decided to fly in and out for the day and leave the kids behind. It was a tough decision to give up a Saturday with our kids, but it’s otherwise possible we wouldn’t meet the new niece and nephew until Christmas.

We were a little pressed for time when we left, so Matou had to give up her stop at Starbucks. No matter, there would be high-maintenance and expensive coffee at the airport.

Traffic was light so it only took us half an hour to get there. We parked in one of those lots with the pink pig shuttles that takes you to your plane so you don’t have to pay much for parking. It was 7:20 a.m., so neither of us were paying much attention to the route the driver took. It wasn’t until we were deposited at the terminal that we realized that the lady dropped us of at the wrong one. If parenting has taught us anything it’s that things don’t go as planned and you just adapt to your situation. We’d just go to one of the airline counters to find out if we’d have to haul ass to our terminal (our plane was departing at 8:05 a.m.) or if we’d have to page the shuttle service to drive us to the correct terminal. I approached one counter and Matou approached another.

“The shuttle dropped us off at the wrong terminal,” Jennifer said, “Can you tell us how to get to the one for Southwest Airlines?”

“Yes,” he said, “It’s about 45 minutes from here. AT THE OTHER AIRPORT.” And he said it in all caps. Slowly. So we could bask in the error of it all.

Mind you, we KNOW Southwest Airlines ONLY flies out of the OTHER airport. We’ve known this for YEARS. Why this didn’t register with EITHER of us BEFORE we left the house, I cannot say.

After laughing at ourselves, and before calling my mother with the change of plans, I called Southwest Airlines and said “Before I tell you what happened, let me preface this by saying we have three-month old twins and we left our brains elsewhere.” A huge thank you to Southwest Airlines for not only getting us on the next flight out at 11:00 a.m., but for doing so without charging us for the last-minute flight change. The only thing, she said, was that we’d have to get ourselves to the correct airport and did we need directions?

After taking account the commute time across the city, we decided to go have breakfast and enjoy an uncommon hour of child-free, thinking-unnecessary, unrushed dining. With a hot meal that started out that way. After all, we had packed plenty of reading material.

Hot Breakfast

We missed our intended pedicures – I haven’t had one since the kids were born. But we arrived to San Antonio in time for lunch at my sister’s house, camera gear in tow. After rotating baby holding with eating, we settled onto the floor of E!’s room, all of us chatting away about babies, diapers, and that biotch next door neighbor, the one with the perfect body, who just jogged by. It was a quick trip indeed – made shorter by our directional miscues – but it was wonderful to spend time with the kids we hope to raise the RJBs around. After all, four of them are within three months of each other.

DSC_4998.JPGMy sister’s second daughter, Sara, born June 24; here 6 1/2 weeks old.

Xavier
My brother’s first child, a son named Xavier, born July 28; here 12 days old.

E!My sister’s first child, Emily, born February 2007, here 17 months old.

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