by 4 October 29, 2013Travel blogs are supposed to be made up of pretty travel pictures and killer stories. They should make you want to go somewhere that isn't home and they sometimes they should help you do just that. But sometimes I start to feel a little guilty. We get to do some pretty awesome stuff from London, that's true, no doubt. But the process isn't always as pretty as a blog post picture. That's why the title of this post includes the words "Real Life." Because I don't instagram the times I get frustrated with the love of my life ( the one who worked way harder than I even understand to plan the trip we are going on) or the times my child poops at the exact moment we find out we can't get out of our plane seat for at least an hour (true story, sorry Kyle the plane seat buddy). We have chosen to take this little person with us as we travel and that's really upped the joy and the "real life" moments of globe-trotting. Like that one time we went to Dallas from London.... To get to Dallas we spent ten hours on a plane with an infant. Our tickets were very last-minute (we got them at 2am and left at 3pm the same day) and that meant Mat and I would be sitting in different areas of the plane for our first transatlantic flight. Guess which one of us was primarily responsible for the almost 4 month old (as it should be, of course). But this plane was taking us to the land of Chickfila, Tex-Mex, good friends and family so separate seats it was. Really the flight wasn't so bad. When we arrived at our seat only one airplane patron gave me the "I fully intend for that baby to ruin my flight so I am going to be mad about if from the onset" look. And while he had a different seat Mat came and gave me moments of relief and support because he is real life amazing. Faye did well but I wouldn't say she did outstanding. The 1/3 of a year old had a couple "moments" but in any given ten-hour stretch she has a moment or two. And let's be honest, in any given 10 hour stretch I usually have a moment of my own. When we landed Faye was in the perfect state of time zone confusion. She fell asleep in the car and it was looking like she would sleep through the night. With baby sleep accomplished we headed to pick up dinner. Did I mention that the plane took us to the land of Tex-Mex? And that particular land has been a distant shore for 9 months. 9 months queso free is not an accomplishment. We could just make the cut for our go-to Dallas Tex Mex (Rafa's) so we drove straight there to get fajitas, queso and buckets of salsa. On our way there we hit a red light and a handful of Highland Park High School kids in a black truck way to nice for anyone who hadn't reached their 20s stopped right next to us. They were smoking cigs and blaring the latest in top 40. Faye had just fallen asleep. So I looked at my husband and said this very statement. "If the kids in that truck wake up our daughter with their system I am going to be pissed." Well give me a permanent and call me Elanor what in the name of Huggies just came out of my mouth? I mean come on - minus the cig I used to be that kid. Obviously life has changed. That particular crisis was averted, Faye was not woken up by those hell raisen' youngins' and I managed to make it all the way to the hotel without eating chips and salsa in the rental car (in hindsight that was a mistake but in the moment I called it self-control). We arrived at the hotel we booked using inflight wifi and were greeted in the lobby by a Mary Kay convention. Thanks to the over-the-top, pepto pink flaunting, semi-formal wearing attendees, our little one woke up in the lobby. Since these nice ladies were having what looked to be the night of their late thirties I let it go. In our room I got Faye ready for bed and wrapped her in a swaddle. When I went to give her the last little bit of a bottle she promptly vomited no less than 9 ounces of formula all over herself, her hair, her swaddle, her pajamas and the bed that was intended to be the resting place for Mat and myself. I wished I too was having the night of my late thirties instead of the frustration of my late twenties. Baby vom was everywhere. A bath for the bit was required. We'd been up for at least 36 hours. So after the vom, the bath, re-calming the baby, re-dressing and swaddling the baby and getting her to sleep sans-bottle our fajitas, queso and buckets of salsa had been waiting on us to appreciate them fully for over an hour. And after your baby has vommed and is finally asleep you don't want to wake her up. Not even for queso. Nevertheless, crunchy chips and salsa had to be eaten and we couldn't do that in the same room as the sleeping bit. We had one option and we took it without question. The bathroom. We laid out our freezing cold mexican feast in the bathroom of the Renaissance hotel in Dallas. Mat pulled down the seat cover on the toilet and sat there inhaling chips while I enjoyed the perfect ratio of chicken, peppers and salsa wrapped in corn tortillas from the bathtub ledge. In a few short hours I cursed the (age-appropriate) shenanigans of some HPHS kiddos, cleaned up baby vom and capped off my first night back in Texas with cold mexican in a hotel bathroom after a transatlantic flight. Welcome to Texas, Hency's! Luvvies, you don't have moments like that without pro-creating and that story won't make my "Come Away With Me: Dallas" post. Real life travel means sometimes you eat cold mexican food in a bathroom. P.S. That Tex Mex is still some of the best I've ever had - top five - distance makes the heart grow fonder. P.S. S. I also ate chips and salsa for a pre-breakfast appetizer the next morning and when I asked Mat not to judge me he responded with "I won't, I already ate some." One of many reasons we will be married forever.
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Darcy Apparel is a clothing and accessory boutique located in the beautiful and historic downtown Fayetteville, AR. Started in 2017 by Darcy Munoz, Darcy Apparel is a curation of unique and classic styles by emerging designers from around the U.S. and the world. Women of all ages and backgrounds can find something to love in the shop.
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