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.
Six reasons you aren't neurotic:
ReplyDelete1. I think you are superwoman b/c you traveled with a five week old and made it look easy. You hid your crankiness well. I couldn't have done either.
2. Let us not forget that she let G'pa Kirk hold her for a LONG time during the swim party and both were equally content. Amongst other family members getting cuddle time.
3. I spotted Steven using the Snugli outside my house and it made me smile in sweet revenge knowing that he might not have been completely onboard with the purchase.
4. She came all the way to Texas and was beat on by her Godzilla cousin Charlie.
5. Last and not the best of encouragement, the trick floor feeling/theory still exists three kids, 9 and almost 1 birthdays later (the three collectively). Whether its a fussy baby, backslidin' potty trained child, impolite preschooler or irrational three week shy Kindergartner. I think you missed Elizabeth's meltdown over the snorkel at the swim party, it did include me trying to fit her snorkel mask over her goggles in an attempt to keep the water out of her eyes and nose all while using the stupid Spiderman snorkel. It did provide comic relief to me, my dad and Steven.
6. Your kids are fantastic, we miss you guys already and are counting down the days until we see you again!
Cathy, you're awesome. Thanks for the reassurance! Alex told me his convoluted version of a story about Elizabeth and a snorkel but he seemed to find it funny and I couldn't decipher what he had happened.
ReplyDeleteAnd whether or not you think it's deserved, you're at the top of my list of moms who seem to have it all together. I'm still waiting to see one of those infamous clothes-flinging fits from your angelic middle child. =)
I hope your blog one day becomes a book---I find your blogs a joy to read---and when it DOES becomes a book --say "Secrets of a Supermom" --LOL
ReplyDeleteI want an autographed copy!!
Love, Nonna