Humiliating Plane Flight

I once worked for a charming college prep school; the kind of place that you might think only exists in the dreams of parents and teachers. At this school parents paid top dollar for an increased chance of getting their darlings into an ivy-league school. For many it worked. As a teacher it was a source of pride to teach there - standards were high for teachers and students alike. This was the kind of job where I dressed up in a suit on conference days and was always "dressed to impress". It was an expectation that as a teacher I would always present myself in a polished, professional manner. For the most part this was easy for me to do. But we all have those moments.....

It was spring break and I'd taken my 7 month old son to visit his grandmother. It was his first flight in an airplane and he performed wonderfully on the 4 hour flight. There are a few things I hate in life... and a few things I love. I LOVE sleep.... and HATE mucus. Funny how these two things can be so closely tied together. Many children plead with God for favors - I tired to bargain to never have a cold again as long as I lived.

So here I was in the sunny south (far away from the snowy mid-west) and my pleasant week grinds to a halt as my son and I both get a cold. Did I mention that I HATE mucus? It could have something to do with the fact that some people produce more than others... and when healthy I produce enough for several people. When sick, I produce enough for a moderate sized family. In the midst of wiping an endless stream of snot from my son's nose I realize he too was blessed with over-active mucus membranes. Between the two of us sniffling, sneezing and coughing I didn't get much sleep. Lack of sleep causes a strange blend of crazy for me. It is somewhere between anger, desperation and a scatter-brained lack of attention and focus.

It was in this state of mind that I began packing for the return trip home. I'm an early riser in general and so I prefer to travel early. My flight was leaving at 9 a.m. Plenty of time to get up and to the airport if I packed the night before. So I packed and set my alarm for 6 am (security and traffic in Atlanta is time-consuming) got into bed with my sick son and prepared to be up most of the night. Around 3 am my son finally drifted in to a deep sleep and I took some NyQuil. I woke up at 6:30 and went down stairs in my sleep-deprived funk to give the baby to my mom while I showered. I asked what time it was and what time we needed to leave.

My mom turned on the TV and paled. "We should have left 20 minutes ago" she said quietly. Then she started shouting, "Go, Go!" thrusting the baby at me she dashed off to get dressed. I stared at the clock which read 6:35 am. I didn't think we had to leave until 7:15. She noticed I'd not moved and shouted "time change! Spring Forward!" It slowly dawned on me that it was 7:35 not 6:35. I raced up the stairs and threw the remaining items in my suitcase and quickly dressed myself and the baby. We dashed out the door within 5 minutes of our discovery.

I have to pause here and admit a nasty, gross consequence of this over-production of mucus. So much mucus on an empty stomach..... well, it makes you vomit. Gross, I know... I have to live with it... but those are the facts.

So in our haste to get out the door I did not eat breakfast. As my mom is flying down the highway my stomach is rolling. I tell her to pull the car over. "Are you sure?" she asks thinking about the time we will lose and that I might miss my flight. I'm sure that I don't want to vomit in her BMW so she pulls over. I jump out of the car and as I throw up on the side of the road.. something worse happens... in the violence of my abdominal compressions - I wet my pants.

Yep. Now I was day-old dirty, smelling like pee and I was pretty sure there was some vomit on my shirt. I jumped back in the car and off we went again like a bat out of hell. Amazingly my mom got me to the airport with a few minutes to spare for security and boarding. We hardly said goodbye as she opened the stroller I strapped the baby in and began running through the airport. Now we all know that when you have your hands full and you have a coat (remember the snowy mid-west), it is easier to wear it than carry it. So I'm now running through a crowded airport in a coat and I begin to sweat.

Now my aroma is a nice blend of day-old BO, vomit, pee and now sweat. I made it to the plane just in time to take my seat. As I settled into my seat I pulled my greasy hair into a messy pony-tail and began to clean up all the neglected snot from my son's face. I was accumulating a pile of tissues as the flight continued and my son began to squirm in my lap and fidget. It is times like these that you become thankful that no one knows who you are. I felt terrible, coughing, sneezing and I'm sure I smelled worse that I felt. I relaxed into my seat anticipating my nice warm bed and a hot shower. But those were miles away.

After drink cart shifted down the aisle the woman sitting across the row from me glanced over. I turned my head away; sure she was going to comment on the smell and as terrible as it sounds I was going to blame it on the baby. She tapped my shoulder, "Excuse me." I had no choice but to look at her. "I knew you looked familiar!" she pronounced with a wide grin. This woman was beautiful and stylish and her clothes and jewelery screamed money. There was no way I knew this woman but she did look a bit familiar. Before my befuddled brain could process much more she leaned back to reveal an equally beautiful girl.....

My heart sank and I know I turned three shades of red as I recognized one of my students. Her mother seemed to notice my embarrassment and softly said, "We've all been there dear." I was humiliated and I guess I've officially "been there" now. Later I couldn't decided if I was upset or horrified that this woman recognized the smelly, messy me when normally I would be dressed nicely and smelling like CREED perfume. I hope she just had a knack for faces.

Glittery "Presents"

Baby Man's first Christmas has come and gone. It was spent with family and friends and although he will not remember a thing, it was a wonderful event for me as a new mom. While things ended "glittery" they didn't start that way. I think Baby Man is developing a distate for car travel just like his mom.

Bright and early Saturday morning we load up the car with a 60 pound dog, a trunk full of luggage, gifts, baby gear and dog necessities. We strap ourselves in our little Camery with a happy baby and excited dog in the back seat, mom and dad smiling in the front.

After three days of traveling across the heartland we arrive at my mom's house on the east coast to celebrate Christmas. Dad in the driver's seat barely hanging on to sanity through the pounding headache, mom in the back seat between a cranky-hates-the-carseat baby and a dog having a whimpering-drooling-emotional breakdown. We all had tunnel vision with my mother's drive way as the shining beacon of sanity. As the car doors exploded open dad raced for the quite sanctity of the bathroom, the dog raced around in circles, and I couldn't pass of my grumpy-worn-out baby to Gram fast enough.

The whirlwind that was our arrival calmed down relatively quickly when it sank in to all of us that the torture of the car was finished for now. We put anxious dog in the back yard and she promptly jumped the fence and headed around to the front to be let back in the house. I felt a twinge of guilt in our plan to dump the dog on Gram... but that is another story.

The festivities and crowds descended on Christmas Day. As I've blogged before, Christmas at my mom's house is the most perfect thing/event/place I can imagine. I actually think heaven will feel something like my mom's at Christmas. Christmas morning was filled with things to unwrap and pictures to take of my newly expanded wonderful family.

My sleepy baby man discovered a new favorite thing at Christmas... bows and ribbons... lots of them! Bows and ribbons are shiny, pretty and evidently tasty! For hours that morning baby man had a ribbon in his hand and in his mouth. We thought it was cute how he carried them around, crawling with a ribbon clutched tightly in his fist. We all ate too much and laughed well into the evening and as quickly as it had come, Christmas Day was gone. But the sparkle of the day would live on...

The next day we all laid around napping away the food consumed during the festivities. 

Dad calls out to me that it is my turn to change baby man's diaper. I groaned as I realized that by "my turn" dad ment "poopy". Baby man grinned at me and clapped his hands as if to say, "I've got a surprise for you!" As I pulled the diaper back I discovered the prettiest poop I've ever seen.... it was filled with glitter! Evidently the glitter from the ribbons found their way to making another present special.

Merry Christmas Baby Man!!!

Thanks for the glitter poop!