She's Portable!

The first time we took Alex on a plane, he was three months old. I brought along the Boppy and a bag full of things fit to entertain a three-month-old to the extent they're capable of being entertained. At this point someone told me about the sugar-on-the-paci trick that was to be used ONLY IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, and while we didn't need to resort to it on that trip, I shamefully admit that there were others, down the line.

Now Alex is five, and self-reliant, and not quite but almost to that point where he wants nothing to do with us (mainly me) in public. I'm mostly okay with that; an independent streak and a healthy dose of confidence in his own capabilities must mean we've done something right ... and/or, and probably or, he's just an awesomely mature kid in his own right.

So he sat in the one-seat aisle across from us, and we crammed into our two-seater with Katherine and I spent the whole flight shoving Steven's arm off the communal armrest because I am prone to heat and was cradling a little ball of fire. PLUS a blanket, because even when it's 101 in the shade, she won't abide not being wrapped in something. I don't know if she's modest or ashamed of her scrawny little legs and disproportionately gigantic feet or what. (And I can say that without being labeled cruel because I wouldn't trade either of those traits for all the world.)

The trip there (there being Houston, to introduce baby K to the paternal side of her family) went off without a hitch. We heard not a peep from her except when I leaned over to get a snack for Alex out of the diaper bag under the seat in front of me and squished her just a lil' bit. Then she gave off a little "gunnnh" and went right back to sleep over my profuse apologies.

It ain't so easy, though, once the plane lands and you get to where you're going and your angel-baby decides to prove you a big fat liar by crying and fussing and refusing to be held by anyone INCLUDING we who conceived her. She slept a lot, thank God, but was otherwise just about as cranky as cranky can be. (I might have had her beat, a little.)

And it makes you feel, even when people say shut up, that's stupid, that you're standing in a spotlight with one of those trick floors like they have in fake game shows, and if you can't soothe the baby within a given amount of time (say, ten seconds), the false floor will give out beneath you and you'll be funneled down into wherever it is they send mothers who can't calm their babies fast enough.

I realize that sounds ridiculous. I realize that IS ridiculous. NOW I do.

But now I'm home, and now baby K is asleep (cried all the heck out, she is) and my not-a-baby-anymore Xandermander is asleep and I've had my post-travel shower and am splayed out on clean sheets typing away about all this, and I KNOW no one thought I was a screw-up or that I failed some nonexistent test of motherhood. I know that Katherine was fussier than usual because she's been around for less than six weeks and for the first five nothing changed except for her formula a couple of times when I thought I could fix her reflux without a pediatrician's assistance.

And now we can look forward to December, when we'll be traveling with a much more active baby, one who might not be appeased by the five "S"s (and yes, we did 'em all) and who might be going through a clingy phase that will inevitably bother me if she won't show off her bound-to-be-goofy grin and sweet open-mouthed kisses like her brother used to give.

Bottom line: Julie is neurotic no matter what the circumstance.

Other bottom line: My kids (and I still love that plural) are, to borrow from Carrie and from Katie, my insides.

We had a great trip, Texas family! See you soon.

Week 2 A.K.

The helium "It's a Girl!" balloon that came with a friend's Edible Arrangement gift when I was in the hospital is still afloat. That's how new Katherine is.

It's kind of mind-boggling, that she's only been touchably, smellably, kissably here with us for two weeks and two days now. Or at least it was mind-boggling when I was struck by the improbability of that still-floating balloon while trying to rock her back to sleep at 2:30 this morning.

(In my defense, lots of things boggle my mind at that hour.)

The shake-up we experienced when Alex was born, the one I was fully expecting this time around, just never happened. It was like the buildup to Y2K ... and then when the nothing hit, you either felt silly for expecting something to happen or embarrassed for the world full of people who did. Of course, that was a nonevent, whereas this was not, by any means. It's just eventful in a wonderful way that I never expected, and that's hard for a pragmatist to admit.

She clicked right into place, like we'd had this little Katherine-shaped cutout in the middle of our family all this time and just didn't know it until she took her rightful spot there.

We've fallen into a comfortable daytime pattern wherein I freelance while she sleeps next to me, wrapped in a blanket, nestled in a Boppy, smiling and whimpering and startling the heck out of herself every now and then. She's distracting in the most awesome ways.

I don't turn the TV on until I've done my writing for the day, and I always shower and get dressed in real clothes so I don't feel like I'm a box of bon-bons and an episode of Days of Our Lives away from becoming an outdated and wildly off-base stereotype. For what it's worth, Days of Our Lives is way better now than it was when I was on leave five years ago, even if that's not saying much.

After lunch we'll lie down in my bed and she'll continue her several-hours-long nap and I'll take one that's much shorter and more refreshing than the dead-asleep kind I got into the habit of when I was pregnant with her. Then we'll get up and go pick up Alex at his school's summer camp program.

I don't miss adult conversation like I once did because there's always Facebook, text, and, when I'm breaking my own rules, DVR-ed gems like Toddlers and Tiaras and People's Court to catch up on (yes, I do). Plus, Steven usually comes home at lunch, gazes adoringly at Katherine for a few minutes, and makes a sandwich before heading back to work.

It's not a bad setup, all things considered.

Right now Katherine is telling me she's about to wake up and demand to eat, so that's it for now. Happy Friday Before a Long Weekend!