It's almost time to light but I wanted to put up a brief post first. So, the trip was, you know... a trip with three kids four and under. Let's see--Iyyar had diarrhea, then he threw up, then he threw a few tantrums. I thought packing three changes of clothes for everyone in our carryons was overkill, but by the time we got off the first plane he was on his last pair of pants. Avtalyon nursed, slept, and screamed--sometimes all three at once. Barak was pretty good--he stayed up until the equivalent of 2 am on the first flight, finally conking out--you guessed it--just as the plane started to descend. Oh, and of course they lost our stroller.
But I do love BA. When Iyyar vomited all over himself, carseat, clothes, and floor, and started to scream, just as Avtalyon was already howling, and Barak decided to get in on the act by wanting me to start his movie (Horton Hatches the Egg) again, two stewardesses turned up with paper towels, plastic bags, and magic salt that dried up the vomit so I could clean it off. Then they brought us all water bottles. Nobody was anything but completely lovely and helpful--they gave the kids little activity bags, and when they saw we had kosher meals offered them juice but no (nonkosher) bags of pretzels. As we got on flight #2 with three exhausted childre, two of whom were screaming their heads off and the third of whom was wailing that he wanted his EGG, they didn't bat an eyelash. The flight attendant standing by the door was positively jolly about it. "Dear, dear!" he said to Iyyar, who was flat on the floor hysterically pounding his feet and fists. "Come come! It's not that bad!" One of the bright spots about changing at Heathrow is, of course, the WH Smith at every other departure gate, and I availed myself of the availability of Cadbury; Barak, naturally, sniffed out the chocolate, but was successfully deceived by my sneaky ploy of buying two Kinder Eggs (small) and did not notice the three bars of Dairy Milk with Caramel (large, and all mine).
Anyway, we're here now. We're staying in a sublet apartment which is bigger than what we have at home, if not quite as childproof; it is conveniently located about six minutes from the makolet and about as far from the falafel and pizza places. Yesterday I had the most fabulous sandwich of real genuine tomatoes (purchased with traces of real genuine dirt) on fresh squishy pita bread, followed by a dinner of one of the best falafel sandwiches I've ever had. The kids are slowly recovering from the jet lag, as are we; our kitchen is stocked after a trip to SuperZol courtesy of a friend of Tanta Rivka's, and we have challah, spreads, tomatoes and some Shabbos takeaway for dinner. The kids are in bed, the house is ready, and I'm just sitting here listening for the siren to tell me it's time to light.
There's the siren. Shabbat shalom.