When Family Followed: Bringing Our Daughter and Grandkids to Thailand
When Family Followed: Bringing Our Daughter and Grandkids to Thailand
When we left the U.S., we knew this story wasn’t just ours.
Our daughter Savannah and the kids — Liam, Hadley, and Kadyn — had already decided they were coming too.
But first, we needed a moment to breathe.
To find our footing, to make sure the life we were building could hold all of us.
That first month in Thailand was the exhale we needed.
And when we finally felt ready, we booked the tickets that would change everything.
The Month Before Takeoff
Back in Oklahoma, the kids were counting down the days.
Liam was eight, and Kadyn and Hadley — the twins — were seven.
Yes, all three share the same birthday: January 5th (another story for another blog).
For weeks, they’d been packing, giving away toys and clothes, and talking about elephants — feeding them, not riding them — because that was the plan for their upcoming birthday in Thailand.
They were nervous about saying goodbye to friends and family but buzzing with excitement for what waited on the other side of the world: beaches, temples, and a life that felt like adventure.
It was a beautiful kind of chaos — the kind of anticipation that only childhood can make magical.
The Morning Chaos and the Kind Stranger
We actually flew out of Dallas — one of those airports that feels like its own city.
Our flight left at 10 a.m., which meant a 6 a.m. arrival at the terminal: three kids in pajamas, twelve suitcases balanced on carts, and backpacks bursting with snacks and activities.
Savannah and I wrangled the kids and the carts while Mike returned the rental car. The kids were troopers — each pushing or pulling something twice their size, ready for the twenty-two-hour adventure ahead.
Check-in went about how you’d imagine… only better.
A retired teacher at the counter noticed their sleepy excitement and asked where we were headed. When we told her, her whole face lit up.
She didn’t just help — she took over.
She tagged our bags, rerouted our carts, and whisked us through the line like a mission of joy.
I think she was more excited than we were.
There’s something about kindness at 6 a.m. that makes the world feel small — like someone’s out there cheering you on just because they believe in new beginnings.
The Flight Over
The kids boarded with backpacks full of snacks and dreams.
They didn’t know a plane could be that big. Their eyes went wide at the endless rows of seats and glowing screens.
Once we settled in, it was twenty-two hours of rotation: meals served, movies watched, pages colored, games played — repeat.
They barely slept, which meant we didn’t either.
Every hour had its own rhythm: giggles, snack wrappers, whispered questions like “Are we still flying?” and at least one child upside down in a seat they’d given up on understanding.
When they finally did sleep, it was chaos in slow motion — a foot in your back, a head heavy on your bladder, crayons rolling down the aisle — and yet, it was perfect.
Somewhere between the laughter and the backaches, it hit us: this was really happening.
We were on the other side of “someday.”
The Layover in South Korea
Then we arrived in South Korea — and let me just say, it’s not a place you want to tackle while severely over-tired, very, very hungry, and lost in translation.
Take a train here, go there, then take the train on that side back the same direction — which somehow felt like a loop, but was actually a Loop + Up.
Where was the Starbucks? I needed that.
The kids were dragging carry-ons like tiny road warriors. Savannah and I were half-delirious, and Mike was leading the charge through a maze of escalators that might’ve had their own zip code.
Finally, we reached the gate, collapsed into seats, and laughed the kind of laugh that only comes from exhaustion and survival.
From South Korea to Bangkok was just 3.5 hours — nothing compared to the marathon behind us.
“Let’s go,” Mike said. And we did.
Landing in Bangkok
Landing in Bangkok.
Okay — we’re here.
WE DID IT.
We gathered our twelve suitcases, four carts, and four roller bags — a full caravan of chaos — and made our way toward the exit. But first, a pit stop in the “toilet room.”
It had been 24°F when we left Dallas, and now it was somewhere around 96°F with 86% humidity — or at least that’s what it felt like.
So yes, wardrobe change first.
Then outside to what can only be described as a whistle festival of parking attendants and police. No clear purpose — just whistles. Endless, competitive whistles. We decided it must be a national contest.
We ordered a Grab van, piled in with luggage and laughter, and rolled into the city — delirious, proud, and so very alive.
Home
Home.
We made it to the apartment.
After luggage carts, whistle concerts, and 7,000 collective yawns, we finally rolled our twelve suitcases through the door of what would be our new home.
First order of business? Food — obviously.
We wandered down the street and raided the nearest 7-Eleven like true expats in training, grabbing every cheesy toastie, drink, and snack we could fit into our Thailand-sized fridge.
Then, at long last, we collapsed.
Two straight days of sleep — jet lag, joy, and gratitude rolled into one long dream.
We did it.
Together.
See you in our next adventure. 🇹🇭