Airport Mission = Handjob?

Warning: this post may not make me look good

Before I describe our mission to the airport in Winnipeg, let me say a few things. (1) My husband is amazing, (2) My husband is much stronger and calmer than me and (3) My older brothers were so taken by how we got to the airport, they mocked me mercilessly and said (to him, on speaker phone) “we love you so much we want to give you a handjob!”

Prior to our move, we had assumed we’d arrange for 2 taxis to the airport and possibly a third for luggage and strollers, if required.  We were departing fairly early in the morning on a weekday and all of our friends work so we couldn’t rely on lifts from friends.  We also had no family in Winnipeg so that was out, too.  There we were, a family of 5 with a ton of luggage, several strollers and 3 carseats.  We were a short and simple drive from the airport – 12 minutes at most but there were some problems that were nagging at me and my husband…

As the house had been boxed up, our elder daughter had become unusually clingy and teary.  Usually she is a very happy-go-lucky kid but the uncertainty brought on by the move gave her, I believe, some separation anxiety (which is happily sorted out as of the writing of this post!).  The likelihood of her getting upset and hysterical when either I or my husband went to another car was not a reality we wanted to see.

The other problem was that our street was always jam-packed with parked cars.  That meant that the cabs would be blocking off the street, we’d likely be getting honked at, all while we struggled to quickly load up the cars with luggage and secure the carseats for all three into the various cars.

The unenviable task weighed heavily on us though neither realized the other was thinking about it.  It very organically came up in conversation a day or two before we left.  During that conversation, we came up with a perfect solution (which, according to my brothers, makes my husband handjob-worthy): my husband would take the kids on a “walk” and I would leave shortly after, in a cab, with all the bags.  It really was the perfect solution: our daughter thought she was going on an ordinary walk so she didn’t get upset when they left without me, no one was maniacally honking at us to hurry up, and the overall stress that morning was minimal.

Despite the hype over what my husband did and the barbs thrown my way for cabbing it alone, here was the reality: my husband walked half a block to the bus-stop and took the bus (which comes every 10 minutes at that hour) directly to the airport.  Is my husband amazing and saintly? Yes, but not for that mission (sorry!).

Now for the “how to”: he pushed our twin infants (then around 2.5 months old) in the double stroller and he wore our toddler on his back in a backpack that’s designed to hold kids.  He hopped onto the bus, went to the airport and then hung around outside as they awaited my arrival.  I packed up the last minute items, sentimentally took some photos of our first family home and said goodbye to “The Donna”/”Butterfly Cottage” (the two vying names for the house).

We’ve been in Toronto for about 5 weeks now and, thankfully, no one has brought up the handjob offer again.  😉

Scroll down to see some photos of my husband in action…

Scroll down even further to see my handiwork (ie. the photos I took at the end).

x,

Sugar Shack

My husband carrying our daughter in the special hiking pack for toddlers

My husband carrying our daughter in the special hiking pack for toddlers

My husband shovelling the front walk as our daughter keeps him company (!)

My husband shovelling the front walk as our daughter keeps him company (!)

Just a few of the bags...

Just a few of the bags…

Empty Home

Empty Home

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