The Trip...(finally) Part 2

The first night of our trip, as described previously, our son slept perfectly. Not so much with the second night. Our very kind hosts, who were brave to take us on with Clark, had even provided us with a portable crib. It was the fanciest thing I had ever seen. It was suede, people. For a BABY. Anyway, I was so excited for Clark to sleep in it, I just knew he would love it. Well, apparently I know NOTHING about my son, as he hated it. It also didn't help that our hosts prefer a cooler house at night-who can blame them? I prefer that too, though with the baby, we had stopped doing that, and our house is in general kept quite warm for his comfort. Well, even in a thick, footed onesie and a flannel sleepsack, he hated his life. He would not sleep for the life of us. We were up for hours trying to calm this baby who was clearly exhausted-he would fall asleep almost instantly on us and wake up instantly in the crib. So finally, my husband laid him down beside him on our bed, where, of course, Clark instantly fell asleep beside us and slept the rest of the night. I know, I know, in bed sleeping is dangerous for several reasons, but we were so tired, as was Clark, we just did it. And never have again, luckily.

The next few days went as normal, and all was going fine. The only hiccup was the family. Don't get me wrong-they were amazing to us on the trip, paying for things, carting us around in the van they rented and putting up with Clark's screaming. But no one seemed to really understand that he had an actual schedule, and this put a cramp in their plans. They were used to being out as long as they like, but with Clark, you can only leave after he's eaten, and as soon as he wakes up from his nap, instantly he's starving(gets that from his Dad!).  So anyway, there was a lot of frustration on both sides, mainly because he would wake up from a nap, angry and hungry, and they would want to stop and do an errand or two. Which is absolutely impossible with Clark. Either way, lessons were learned on both sides, and no one starved to death, so really, I guess it was a success.

The trip was nice too, in another way, as many people I knew when I was much younger finally had their chance to both meet my husband and my baby. So of course we only brought Clark's cutest outfits to impress them. Like this one:

Unfortunately, as if he was punishing us, he decided to always pee/poop/puke on these outfits within 20 minutes of being in them. It was ridiculous-and I know he was doing it on purpose, because he rarely does any of those anymore. But, I figured he had a right, so we just learned to take the picture as soon as he was changed instead of waiting for the inevitable eruption of some type of liquid.

But the real debacle came on the way home. We had to drive to airport, and then fly out-this time with no break at a hotel in between. So the car ride went pretty smoothly at first, with Clark sleeping the first hour. Then we stopped to feed him in a parking lot along the highway, and surprise, surprise, he refused to breastfeed. That's when we realized we only had enough formula left for one bottle-and we would be needing at least 4. So, my husband and brother-in-law were forced to run around this tiny town off the highway searching for a store that would hopefully carry our brand of baby formula. Luckily, they eventually found one and we were able to keep going.

We got to the airport with plenty of time to spare-too much time. Clark was due for a nap just right before we were supposed to leave, and fell asleep right before we boarded, which meant that by the time we left, he was wide awake. In fact, he woke up ravenous. I mean, he was seriously acting as though we had been denying him sustenance for several years. So he started freaking out, and I attempted to breastfeed, thinking he would be more into it this time, as I had already missed a feeding, and would have plenty of milk for him. Apparently, not going to happen. So we tried to hold him off, but that just turned into an incredible amount of clawing and thrashing, and screeches so loud that people were actually turning to watch us, obviously thinking we were torturing our child. So in the end, I ended up giving him the bottle to shut him up, hoping it would last through take off. Fat chance. Instead, he gulped the entire thing in 5 minutes, and cried for more, which we obviously did not have. Then he cried because his ears hurt. All in all, disaster.

Then the bad mood continued-to the point where my mom offered to take him for our sanity-but then, five minutes later, handed him back, claiming that she was sure he had pooped. I smelled him, and told her I thought he was fine, but she insisted, so I climbed out from the window seat, breaking both my legs in the process, hauled the baby up on one arm and the diaper bag on the other, bashing people's heads in with it as I walked down the aisle. That's where my husband's height becomes very useful to him-he's over 6'4'', and barely fits into those washrooms normally, never mind when he's attempting to change a baby. When I finally finishing stuggling with my now happy child(figures!), there was no poop. No pee either-and that's when he decided to pee EVERYWHERE. All over his legs, stomach, outfit, change pad, change table, me. So then there was the process of cleaning him up, anything within a 2 foot radius up, and changing in into one of his extra outfits. By the time we got out of there, there was a line-up for the washroom and they were all giving me the stink eye.

I gave him back to his grandma with a "Thanks a lot for nothing."(I wasn't in the best mood at this time.) As I handed him over, Clark managed to kick a full glass of Coke all over my husband's pants, and then puke all over me. So here my husband and I are, on a four hour flight, each covered in multiple liquids, cold, uncomfortable, and unhappy. And then, the smell hit my husband. So he turns to my mom, and says,

"Did Clark poop?"

"Nope."

"Are you SURE?"

"Yes!"

See, the thing you have to understand is my son only poops every two or three days, which is perfectly normal for him. But when it does happen, it's MASSIVE. No diaper can contain that for long. But my mom kept insisting that it was just him tooting, nothing to worry about. Twenty minutes went by, and finally my husband couldn't take it anymore, he took the baby from my mom and checked. I swear he almost choked, it was that bad. So for the second time in 30 minutes, the baby and I got loaded up and bashed everyone's head in. Only to get stuck behind a person standing in front of the empty washroom chatting up the flight attendants. He looked at me, saw the baby, and just kept talking. I tried to be patient, but finally, I was just like, "Are you going in there? Because we really need to." He rolled his eyes and moved over half an inch, making me squeeze to get through.

And there was the poop-all over my son's outfit and up his back, thanks to mom. So went into his second emergency change of clothes-and his last, with still an hour and three quarters to go on the flight. As I exit the bathroom, there is an extremely tall, extremely burly older man waiting outside, taking up all the room in the aisle.As I stand there, trying to silently convey to him that he needs to move back to his row so I can get around him, he tells me just to "squeeze by him". Excuse me, you trying have a kid, and see how wide your hips end up being, nevermind added to that a diaper bag and a baby you are currently holding, and how tiny the aisle is. So I very politely asked him to move instead, which he refused. It was ridiculous. So finally, I just said, very loudly, "Sir, I am holding a new baby on a moving plane, I cannot squeeze by you or into another row, so you will have to move." At this point, a flight attendant intervened and asked him to move for me, thank goodness.

When I got back to our row, I informed my husband that I was never leaving my seat again, added to the fact that the next time I fly, it better be when Clark is 18 or not with us, because this had been the worst day of my life. And then, as if to seal the deal on the flight, my son fell asleep as we landed. Literally, we touched the ground, and he was out like a light. Which meant waking him up to put him in his car seat, which led to a massive amount of crying and screaming, which only got worse when we got outside to find 2 feet of snowing had fallen, and was still falling.

Then, to top off the whole thing, as soon as we got home, and were getting him ready for bed, we look up, and there was a giant patch of mold on my son's ceiling(we live in an apartment building). Which then caused discussions about sleeping arrangements for him, which then culminated in the realization that his crib does not fit through the doorway and would have to be taken apart and rebuilt, which is impossible as the instructions were missing. In the end, we researched it, and decided he would sleep one night in there and we would figure out different arrangements the next morning.

As my husband put it, "All in all, one of the biggest disasters since we got married." I'm just glad he was with me. I cannot fathom trying to handle all of that without him. It's times like that when I realize my husband is everything to both of us, and how much he does for us. So my recommendation to everyone is this-travel when your child is older, or don't travel at all. Save your sanity, you are going to need it, if you have a baby.

The Trip...(finally) Part 1

It started off as well as could be. I was so organized, Martha Stewart would have been proud of me. The packing was done, the weather was good and even Clark's feedings worked out so that he would eat right before we had to leave. So, we head out, my mother-in-law driving us. It's normally a 35 minute drive, but had left 50 minutes just in case, mostly because both my husband and I are completely neurotic when it comes to being late, or being rushed, especially now with the baby. Then we hit traffic. Bad traffic, and ended up sitting still for about 30 minutes. And then we hit more traffic. And that's when Clark had reached his limit for the car. And the screaming ensued. Don't people realize that people with babies travel, and thus, the car can never come to a complete stop?

So anyway, our car ride ended up taking an hour and a half. 'No problem,' we thought, 'it's a domestic flight, check in will be a breeze.' That was, of course, until we saw the 400 person long line up for our airline. Apparently all servers were down. So there we are, standing in the back of the line, 30 minutes until our flight is supposed to leave. Then, 15 minutes before, they pull us out of line and up to the front to try to get us checked in. We get everything done, and head for security. We have 5 minutes to go, and they announce they will NOT be holding the flight. Then Clark fell asleep in his sling, ten seconds before the security people order us to take him out of it. So I end up holding this exhausted, confused, angry baby as we both then attempt to juggle approximately 46 other things between the two of us. Then we make the mad dash to our gate, being the second last ones on the flight. Now the dilemma begins-Clark is falling asleep-but if we don't feed him on the way up, his ear pain will more than likely wake him up, but if we keep him awake he will more than likely try to claw our faces off and scream until our ears bleed. We opted for keeping him up, and somehow, he was an angel.

He ate his formula as we ascended and them slept the rest of the three hour flight. Even the flight attendants couldn't believe it. An angel baby, that's what I have, I kept thinking to myself. Now I may note here, I did try to breastfeed him on the flight-I had my nursing cover all ready and had even made my poor husband cart around a nursing pillow. But Clark absolutely refused, and fought me as I tried to be as discreet as possible. And this is when I got creeped out. There was a lady in the aisle across and slightly ahead of me. She was actually craning her neck to try to watch me feed Clark. Now, you have to understand, I am what you may call a private breastfeeder. It may be weird, but I only breastfeed uncovered in front of my husband, and covered rarely in front of others, mostly I will just go to the car or another room. And here was this lady, staring at me-it got to the point where even my husband noticed without me saying anything and started holding up his sweater as well(Clark can really struggle when he wants to), but even that didn't stop her. So my mom, who was in the aisle seat got so mad she literally opened her book and stuck it in front of this lady's face until she looked away. It was very odd, and very uncomfortable.

But anyway, moving on. We had chosen a night flight, thinking that he would nap well. Turns out he thought it WAS night, and wouldn't wake up. So we left the plane, walked forever in the airport as all the domestic hangers were full, so we were parked at the very rarely used end of the international-we literally walked for 25 minutes before reaching luggage, all the while me holding this rock of a sleeping baby and not being able to take anything else. You should have seen my poor husband, we really should have videotaped him, he looked hilarious.

So we get our baggage, and the baby wakes up suddenly, screaming. Now here comes the dilemma-we know he won't breastfeed in the airport and I've already missed 2 feedings and am so engorged I'm dripping everywhere. If I give him another bottle now, he won't eat off me later and it will be horrible, especially with how I'm prone to mastitis. So the poor kid had to wait for the hotel bus to come and get us, then he finally ate in the room. I don't know who was more relieved-my breasts or him.

In our incredibly sleep-deprived minds(3:30 am), we realized after 20 minutes, there was no crib in our room. So we called all the other hotel rooms that belonged to the rest of my family, and none of theirs had it either, even though when the room was booked, we had very clearly specified that we must have a crib. Then more disaster ensued, with no one working there knowing where the crib was, and them searching for 35 minutes, until it was finally delivered to our door. Luckily our angel baby continued to be amazing, and slept straight through until 9 am, though he apparently is part walrus, as my husband called it, because in his sleep, he kept lifting his legs and slapping them down very hard onto the playpen mat, making an incredibly loud, incredibly scary sound, especially when you are fast asleep. Yet somehow, he never managed to wake himself up...

Unfortunately for us, we were then woken at 7:30 am by my sister letting me know she had received a call from where my Gramma was living that she had taken a turn for the worse and they did not know how long she might live. So then mad packing and getting ready ensued, all while trying to let the incredibly exhausted baby sleep more(though we only got 3 hours). So off we went, for our 3.25 hour car ride. We'll just sum up by saying he did NOT like it, and would NOT breastfeed in the car, and this led to even more engorgement.

Luckily, we made it to the home in time to see my Gramma, and spend some time with her, and get an update. Then we headed back to a town approximately 20 minutes away, where we were staying and crashed, hard.

I have to say, I was amazed at my child, he slept well, though he hated the carseat most of the time, he did play and sleep in it, even though he was in it for almost three and a half hours straight, compared to his longest time, which was 30 minutes previously. He was great, and made this incredibly stressful trip so much better with his good sleeping and good moods.

Don't I look like an angel baby?

Next time, on The Trip...(finally) Part 2, you will see how even a five month old baby can wake up every 10 minutes still at night, and how family without children can potentially drive you nuts in stressful situations.

Life is busy-what can I say?

I know it has been quite a while since I posted, and I sincerely apologize, but life has truly been insane. Don't worry, I will soon post the long, sordid details about our debacle of a trip, but all I have time for right now is a shorter post. It's amazing to both my husband and I how quickly time passes when you are on your child's schedule. Most days, nothing gets done. On some days, maybe the dishes will be done. And on a really good day, shockingly, an actual errand will be completed(usually a month after it was due to be done-but I won't complain.)

Where does this time slip away to? Really, I would like to know. And does it get better soon? It doesn't help that my husband has been a bit off this last little bit. He's the guy who is never tired, yet, he has been lately. So of course, we are worried he's fighting some sort of cold or flu. None of is have been sick since the baby was born, and we want to keep it that way. I can't even imagine being sick and taking care of a baby. It's not exactly like you can lay on the couch and your baby will feed and change itself.

The thought is frightening. It better not happen, so I'm forcing sleep and vegetables and fruit on him until he is better. We barely have time to clean, never mind be sick. Maybe in about a year I can give him time off to be sick-if he's lucky...