Since being in the US for the last five days, the biggest shock value when talking to folks about our trip has not been that we traveled 5,969 miles to attend my long-term ex-boyfriend's wedding (anyone who knows me and Tyler well know how much Brian and his family mean to us), but rather that Tyler traveled that distance alone with Elliot.
Before we left, my friend Olivia and I joked about how accommodating, helpful, and understanding the stewardists and other passengers would be; during travels to Japan earlier this year, I had already learned firsthand the difference that onlookers give you as the mother are carrying your screaming baby ("what's wrong with you?") versus the father carrying your screaming baby ("aw, what a good dad"). Indeed, Tyler and Elliot both made friends during the flight -- Elliot's in the form of a one-year old girl who was very happy to share her toys (up to a point) and help Elliot hold the bottle of milk to his mouth when he got too tired. (When deboarding at the end of the 11.5 hour flight, the older sister of Elliot's one-year old friend said: "they should get married.")
It seemed like the trip, while certainly no breeze, was really nice bonding... particularly since Elliot is at a delightful age where, when things aren't going well, his default response is: "Let's cuddle."
Now that we're in LA, while there has certainly been great mom-Elliot bonding time (with the grandparents as well; more to come!), there has been no shortage of "like father, like son" moments (my personal favorite is waking up next to both of them with their arms straight up overhead). Perhaps the most fun (and certainly Elliot's first) over the last couple days has been this:
Checking out the Porsche:
Loading precious cargo:
Tyler's son indeed:
Before we left, my friend Olivia and I joked about how accommodating, helpful, and understanding the stewardists and other passengers would be; during travels to Japan earlier this year, I had already learned firsthand the difference that onlookers give you as the mother are carrying your screaming baby ("what's wrong with you?") versus the father carrying your screaming baby ("aw, what a good dad"). Indeed, Tyler and Elliot both made friends during the flight -- Elliot's in the form of a one-year old girl who was very happy to share her toys (up to a point) and help Elliot hold the bottle of milk to his mouth when he got too tired. (When deboarding at the end of the 11.5 hour flight, the older sister of Elliot's one-year old friend said: "they should get married.")
It seemed like the trip, while certainly no breeze, was really nice bonding... particularly since Elliot is at a delightful age where, when things aren't going well, his default response is: "Let's cuddle."
Now that we're in LA, while there has certainly been great mom-Elliot bonding time (with the grandparents as well; more to come!), there has been no shortage of "like father, like son" moments (my personal favorite is waking up next to both of them with their arms straight up overhead). Perhaps the most fun (and certainly Elliot's first) over the last couple days has been this:
Checking out the Porsche:
Loading precious cargo:
Tyler's son indeed:
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