Nervous Nelly

Tomorrow’s the big day. Heading off to London. And I am nervous.

I am worried I’m going to forget our passports. (When I mentioned this about a week ago, Adam looked at me like I was worried about forgetting to breathe. Just don’t forget them, he said.)

Among the many things that are good about Adam, he is great at traveling. He packs light and packs very well. Often when we’re going on a trip, he just takes over packing my suitcase when it won’t close. He takes everything out and refolds it and there’s room to spare. He also is rarely lost and if he is lost, he never panics, quickly regains his bearings and is just fine. I am almost always lost. I panic, get more lost and stress out my children.

If I was going to London with Adam, I would feel completely different. I’d let him worry—or not worry, because he doesn’t—about all the details. But he’s already there so it’s up to me.

I try to be prepared. I had Adam tell me everything I need to know for the trip. He could do it in his sleep but it was a mistake to ask. I got overwhelmed by all the details I don’t remember from when I went to London last time. “Remember that long hallway in the Vancouver airport?” No. “Remember when you get to customs in Heathrow?” No.

So now I’m trying to remember to go up instead of down on the escalators in Vancouver. To go to International Transfers instead of customs. To take the far right line in Heathrow customs because it’s the short one…for frequent fliers. I’m very obviously not a frequent flier and I’ll be arrested by the frequent flier police for fraud as soon as they see my clueless expression but Adam gave me his magic bright pink card that indicates I belong. We’ll see if I can pull it off.

So the actual getting to London is nerve wracking. My only saving grace there is my very extroverted son who is more than comfortable talking to anyone and everyone to get information. He’ll see me through.

Once we get there, Adam will be there to greet us, which is immensely comforting. He’ll take us to our hotel for a nap. Everyone in the world has a different way to combat jet lag. I’ve heard take melatonin, drink a lot of orange juice, drink a lot of water, eat a lot of protein three days ahead of the trip, eat a lot of carbohydrates two days before the trip, eat normally the day before the trip, don’t sleep when you get there if it’s not night time. Then Adam said we should take a short nap right when we get there. He’ll wake us up when he gets back from work and we’ll hit the town. OK. I already missed the boat on the changing my diet for three days and where does one find melatonin to take and how much do you take anyway? I even thought about drugging my children and self up on benadryl for the flight but it gives Emma hallucinations (seriously) and it knocks me out cold and I think I should be at least a little bit alert.

So assuming we get to London and can combat jet lag, my next item of anxiety (I excel at anxiety) is the navigating around the city while Adam's working. We will have two choices, underground or bus. Yesterday Adam told me that he was stuck in Paddington station for a few hours because someone was killed and they shut down several lines. Great. Wonderful. Adam clarified, they weren’t killed on the TRAIN, it was on the track. A train hit them or something. Oh, well that’s just fine then. Nothing to worry about. You can be very sure I’ll have an iron grip on my kids’ hands. Two kids, two hands, no letting go.

Then last night Emma talked to her grandma on the phone. She suggested Emma write down the name of our hotel on a piece of paper and put it in her pocket in case we get separated. What?! I did NOT need that idea planted in my head. I have NO intention of getting separated from my children.

It’s hard being a crazy woman. But there you have it.

And it isn’t all agitation. I am EXCITED. I have my plan all ready. We’re going to see some amazing things and hopefully my children will always remember this experience (for good reasons…oh no, there I go again). Yesterday I was flipping through a magazine and my eye caught a recipe for some scones. I nearly swooned. That’s right, scones! I remembered the scones I nibbled in little cafés and shops all over London every chance I got. Yes! Scones! We are going to have a marvelous time.