In Which We Return Home
Feb. 26th, 2023 08:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
walkitoutLast night, I entered garage c orlando into google maps to see travel time, and wound up with the c garage at UCF. Ooops. Unfortunately, _today_ R. did the same thing. We hit a point where I was like, are you sure this is right? And he’s like, yes, we’re near the airport. And then we got to the C garage at UCF which is nowhere near the airport. Boy, did I lose my shit.
We were fine. It was Sunday morning. UCF is 20 and a few minutes from MCO. We got there in time and our aircraft arrived late and so we left 40 minutes late anyway, so it was completely fine. Especially since we didn’t check bags. We dropped our rental in C garage (at MCO), so our walk wasn’t too bad. Security didn’t have much of a line (and there were way more than 2 agents doing bag drop for jetBlue, I might add!). It was fine. And also, I completely lost my shit.
So I’ll be much more proactive again about navigating, even tho when I do, it makes me somewhat carsick. T. _also_ didn’t crosscheck, because R. has yelled at him (and me) enough times so we’ve quit arguing with him. Well, we’re arguing with him now.
Other than late departure, no problems with the flight. Airport traffic on the Boston side was a little nuts, but again, no checked bags so we got out pretty quick. Car service was waiting and we were home in a timely fashion. A., R. and I went to Tavern in the Square in Littleton and I brought a take home container and prepacked half of my general tso’s chicken to bring home because I know how this goes.
T. gave me so many rounds of shit on the way home. It was distressing. Complaints about not being able to check bags on future trips. Judgmental crap about how checking bags shouldn’t even be an option if it is a bad one. On and on and on. Eventually, it came out that he was sad about not seeing his grandfather (who passed away in January) on this trip. Fair. And also, I did make it clear that selling out of DVC and never going back to Florida and canceling all other future trips was definitely on the table as an option. I believe I also told him that I could legally tell him to move out and fend for himself at 18, if he was so insistent on being independent. I definitely have teenagers. I kinda feel sorry for them. I am an asshole.
I listened to a podcast, Speaking of Psychology, a recent episode about Good Enough Parenting, on the trip home. If either of the guests on that podcast had been next to me on the plane, I would have fucking pinned their ears back. Their idea of “good enough” sounds suspiciously like a different kind of perfectionism. Just because you switch from product goals to process goals does _not_ mean that you attained any kind of sanity / realism / attainability. They think they are being so reasonable when they note that neurodivergent kids can challenge even highly capable parents. They do not at any point appear to take seriously the proposition that, you know, most neurodivergent kids got their neurodivergence from their parents.
Anyway. We’re home. I’m unpacked (for me and A.). I noticed that T. had a full hamper of pre-trip dirty clothes and apparently does not grasp the basic concept that it’s a terrible idea to let things sit dirty forever. He wasn’t planning on doing the laundry any time soon because he hadn’t run out yet. Sure, buddy. You are definitely an adult. Just like that guy at MIT that did his laundry once a term. No. Not in this house. I grabbed the hamper and started the load and explained to him about how things can mold. Fortunately, nothing seemed to have been wet enough to have done so, so there’s that.
I think R. went to bed early. I really ought to do the same, but I’m catching up on blogging and also dealing with a flurry of in-law messages and then I’ll probably put together some kind of list for what actually is important enough to try to get through tomorrow, which is a half day and will therefore be somewhat chaotic.
We were fine. It was Sunday morning. UCF is 20 and a few minutes from MCO. We got there in time and our aircraft arrived late and so we left 40 minutes late anyway, so it was completely fine. Especially since we didn’t check bags. We dropped our rental in C garage (at MCO), so our walk wasn’t too bad. Security didn’t have much of a line (and there were way more than 2 agents doing bag drop for jetBlue, I might add!). It was fine. And also, I completely lost my shit.
So I’ll be much more proactive again about navigating, even tho when I do, it makes me somewhat carsick. T. _also_ didn’t crosscheck, because R. has yelled at him (and me) enough times so we’ve quit arguing with him. Well, we’re arguing with him now.
Other than late departure, no problems with the flight. Airport traffic on the Boston side was a little nuts, but again, no checked bags so we got out pretty quick. Car service was waiting and we were home in a timely fashion. A., R. and I went to Tavern in the Square in Littleton and I brought a take home container and prepacked half of my general tso’s chicken to bring home because I know how this goes.
T. gave me so many rounds of shit on the way home. It was distressing. Complaints about not being able to check bags on future trips. Judgmental crap about how checking bags shouldn’t even be an option if it is a bad one. On and on and on. Eventually, it came out that he was sad about not seeing his grandfather (who passed away in January) on this trip. Fair. And also, I did make it clear that selling out of DVC and never going back to Florida and canceling all other future trips was definitely on the table as an option. I believe I also told him that I could legally tell him to move out and fend for himself at 18, if he was so insistent on being independent. I definitely have teenagers. I kinda feel sorry for them. I am an asshole.
I listened to a podcast, Speaking of Psychology, a recent episode about Good Enough Parenting, on the trip home. If either of the guests on that podcast had been next to me on the plane, I would have fucking pinned their ears back. Their idea of “good enough” sounds suspiciously like a different kind of perfectionism. Just because you switch from product goals to process goals does _not_ mean that you attained any kind of sanity / realism / attainability. They think they are being so reasonable when they note that neurodivergent kids can challenge even highly capable parents. They do not at any point appear to take seriously the proposition that, you know, most neurodivergent kids got their neurodivergence from their parents.
Anyway. We’re home. I’m unpacked (for me and A.). I noticed that T. had a full hamper of pre-trip dirty clothes and apparently does not grasp the basic concept that it’s a terrible idea to let things sit dirty forever. He wasn’t planning on doing the laundry any time soon because he hadn’t run out yet. Sure, buddy. You are definitely an adult. Just like that guy at MIT that did his laundry once a term. No. Not in this house. I grabbed the hamper and started the load and explained to him about how things can mold. Fortunately, nothing seemed to have been wet enough to have done so, so there’s that.
I think R. went to bed early. I really ought to do the same, but I’m catching up on blogging and also dealing with a flurry of in-law messages and then I’ll probably put together some kind of list for what actually is important enough to try to get through tomorrow, which is a half day and will therefore be somewhat chaotic.