The hurricane and the rainbow...

"My horoscope warned me about traveling in September. I'm sorry. This is my fault. Scorpios and travel right now, they just don't mix."
-Patty Smith (Mom/ Nana)
Some repercussions of mom's bad universal juju would be a fuel tank blowing up on Interstate 65S as we traveled to the airport. Another example would be that I got tagged through security and when they gave me my bags back, they did not give me my laptop. (I later heard, "Would the idiot who left their laptop in security please return to get it.") But here is why it is important to travel with mom, even when the stars tell her not to. Everything is a little more complicated, but everything is a little more fun. How could anyone say that changing the diaper of a giant 3 year old in an airplane bathroom with a "changing table" that was literally a leftover tray table that they installed over the toilet, how could that, end with peeing your own pants laughing? I felt like Chris Farley in Tommy Boy. People who make you feel like it's ok to laugh during stress/ pain/ feces are worth the chaos. They are worth the hurricane wreckage left in their path.
When you are half Italian and half Irish, there are just some things that are beyond your control... mom has a High Blood Pressure personality, if that is a real thing. Go big or go home. In or out. Black or white. She forces people to care. She forces people to know. She forces people to laugh. I love that aggressive love.
So we barreled our way through the airport with a trail of Pixie dust mixed with just a little Cortisol, no, I'm going to say a lot, flying behind us. It was like they stuck the stress hormone and glitter in the sprinkler system and someone pulled the fire alarm. However, the logistics of wheelchairs and car seats and bags aren't that bad when you aren't trying to act like you know what you are doing and you have the cutest dude on the planet with you. People want to help.
We got settled in to the plane and within 5 minutes, the man behind us was patting Luke's head, telling him he was proud of him and the stewardess was in love. We got smuggled extra cookies, Sprite, and blankets.
The poop escapades began about 30 minutes in to the flight, but I have to take a little responsibility for that with the amount of fig bars and apple juice I was shoving in to his face to try to keep him chewing and sucking so his ears wouldn't pop. The only other part that I really need to think of a solution to would be his Larry Long Legs. I literally laid on his legs the entire flight to keep him from launching the poor lady in front of us into the cockpit. Mom continued to send up bottles, toys, candy through the stewardess who was now our devout gopher and Luke's personal assistant. As we left the flight people stopped to tell Luke what a good boy he was and that he was coming to a good place to get some help. How did the whole back end of the plane know about Luke and add him to their prayer list? You got it, Hurricane Patty.
I could have somehow pulled this trip off alone. I would have asked and paid a lot for help. My room would not look like the aftermaths of a natural disaster. I would know where my room key was. But why? Who would go get Luke French Toast sticks. Who would get me the biggest Pumpkin Spice Latte ever created? Who would have French fries and a cheeseburger on my nightstand when I got out of the shower? Who would have taken Luke on a walk to see the big trucks? Who would have almost missed the flight to go find milk for the bottle? Mommies never stop driving us crazy and they never stop saving the day. They never stop fighting for us and with us.
So I get to experience Houston's hope with a hurricane and a rainbow following behind.
​Still dancing in the rain, even in Texas.

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