check me out…
I’m hippie-traveling-mom!
I wish I could say that the laid back hippie mentality stuck with me after the flight, but, I’m afraid that the moment the kid exploded - expressing his discomfort through other-worldly screeches in my parents car, I began to unravel.
I knew that traveling was going to mess with the kid’s schedule, but, I had no idea how much it would effect his poor little-baby-brain.
We arrived at the airport - Marc changed his diaper (one last one for three days) - and I put the kid in the sling… amazingly all was still well. By the time I was at the ticket counter he was asleep. Marc helped get my bag checked and walked us to security. Still sleeping. We made it to the gate and had half an hour to wait (this - the being on time for a flight - is UNHEARD OF in the Aimee and Marc Blase family - so, perhaps we really are becoming more responsible!). The kid was awesome - charming the pants off all of the JetBlue staff, making all of those around us pine for the days when their own children were infants or dream of the day when they too would be able to experience that kind of blissful tranquility - a sleeping angel-doll-baby of their own. Those Hallmark-moment dreams were shattered about 30 minutes into the flight when the kid woke up and remembered that it was his fussy time. The woman - thankfully - next to me was a mother of three - thankfully - who was not only patient and sweet - thankfully - but, had some suggestions of positions to put the fussy baby in which worked for a few minutes at a time - thankfully - and held him for me for a little while - thankfully - while I got situated to take said fussy baby to the restroom to change him…
JetBlue has a changing table laptop-sized piece of MDF that falls out of the wall over the toilet. Our kid is only 7 weeks old and his legs dangled off the edge. With mild turbulence I was able to change the offending diaper with only minor sliding of the child. Back at our seat the kid informed me early on that he wasn’t happy. So, I grabbed the sling and the crying baby and headed back into the loo. I finally emerged with a crying baby now strapped to my body. I made a few laps of the isle and then parked myself at the back of the plane - the loudest place I could find. I was able to stand while ever-so-slightly bouncing the baby and arch my neck so that I could peek through a small window to watch the TV screen of the two men at the back row. This allowed me to pass the time by watching soundless Tony Bourdain goes to The French Laundry. That was, however, short lived because anxious-channel-changer-guy decided that watching the rags-to-riches Tila Tequila love-finding reality program was a wiser TV-watching choice.
The plane ride was what it was and I really was able to keep my calm throughout. But, the minute the doors shut in my parents car and they handed me the much needed chicken sandwich they brought for me, the kid exploded. He cried until we hit the bridge when I realized I brought the magic white noise/sound machine. I cranked it up and held it in front of the kid’s face and he went to sleep for the next hour.
Since that moment he has been cycling through a 30minutes-3hour sleep/5minutes-1hour eat/5-10minutes cry pattern that is completely unlike him. He is down now and has been for 2 1/2 hours - cross your fingers internet that a good long sleep will bring my angel-doll-baby back!
Listening: the faint sounds of the white-noise-rainforest and occasional grunt/snor/coo through the monitor
