Tomorrow is The Plane Trip. It is capitalized because it has become an entity of it’s own. How will the baby fare? No one knows. I have planned for every eventuality I could – plenty of bottles for him to suck on during take off and landing, Earplanes so he doesn’t have to suck on anything to be fine, crystallized ginger and Seabands in case it turns out that he’s like his mother (I get violently ill on planes without mass quantities of Dramamine), an entire toddler-sized backpack full of new toys in case it turns out he won’t sleep on the red eye… I’m as prepared as I can be. And now it just looms, out there, waiting for a verdict.
One of the things I’ve been working on in my personal life is not to overwhelm myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve had as long a to-do list as I had today. The baby was not pleased. He’s used to being able to bring me a book, snuggle up in my lap, and insist that I repeat the whole thing four times. He’s used to dragging me into the guest room where I play him an improvised “Baby Beluga” on the keyboard as he bangs along on the low keys. He’s used to a playmate. And regular meal and snack times.
But Mom had two giant suitcases to pack, four loads of laundry, and massive house organization to get through. Which meant he was relegated to the periphery, entertaining himself. Not the best for general morale, but even amid the crankiness there were moments.
Like this one:
I transferred laundry from the washer to the dryer. Behind me, the boy skittered out of his room and down the hallway, disappearing into my bedroom while doing his silly dance-run and yelling “Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!” And then two seconds later, he ran back the other direction into his room again, yelling and swaggering the whole way. Back and forth, back and forth, yelling only as he passed through the hall, knees flying.
The absurdity of motherhood is my favorite part.
So now we go on a Great Plane Adventure, and see what happens. If nothing else, at least we’ll have that verdict.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll have a little writing time on this vacation. Don’t laugh, it could work out.