Posts Tagged ‘ barfing baby ’

Does Flying With Babies Ever Get Easy?

Wednesday, November 21st, 2012

Barf. Poop. Pee. Fly.

Those four words about sum up my latest airplane excursion with my two babes. I should clarify: my SOLO airplane excursion. As in, no Phil to help me.

I took Fia and Emmett to New Orleans to visit my Aunt Nancy (a.k.a. Baba Yaga, above). It’s a 4-hour flight. I bought two seats, toddler headphones, and an iPad.

This is the first time I’ve flown with them by myself. In Fia’s first year, we went on about 20 flights. I had it pretty down, but I would never say it was fun. I did think my experience as a veteran would help. But it didn’t. Because I’m not a veteran of flying with two kids.

I got to LAX. I check the boards: Flight Delayed. Of course. It said by 20 minutes. At least we were in the terminal and not on the plane for the delay.

We get breakfast. I am slow moving and calm. A picture of peace and tranquility. We sit down to eat. They are both doing great. I have a moment of clarity. Wow, we are off to a stellar start. I kid you not: at that exact moment, Emmett projectile vomits. I hear a collective gasp. I look over to see a table full of young, single, European men staring at me slack-jawed. I look at Em. As the world’s happiest baby, he is giggling. And covered in goo.

“Sorry guys,” I say.

“Well, at least he’s laughing,” one of them remarks. The others just look away.

I pull out my favorite burp cloth and begin to wipe up the mess. Since Em was in the stroller, everything is covered. I throw the burp cloth in the garbage. I don’t even care. I’m not having this, I think. Stay calm. Breathe. This is no big deal.

Then Fia, who no longer wears diapers, screams, “Mama, I have to poop!” I once again see the horror in these men’s faces. They will never procreate. I have single-handedly helped reduce the world’s population.

I scramble like a bomb is about to explode. If I have to clean up sh-t in her pants, then I swear, I’m not getting on the plane, I say to myself. All my inner calmness goes out the window. The real me is back. We rush to the bathroom, nearly knocking over a man with a food tray. I am pushing a barf-laden baby in a barf-laden stroller and dragging an almost-pooping toddler in her almost poop-filled underpants. Why didn’t I just put her in Pull-Ups this morning? I curse silently.

We fly into the bathroom just in time. Thank god I had back-up outfits. At this point, Em is the only one who needs one.  We clean up, I get my calm back, and we go to the gate. 10 minutes later:

“Attention folks. There’s been a gate change.”

Groan, grimace, move.

We get to the new gate. Flight now delayed 40 minutes. We sit for about 20. Then:

“Attention folks. Really sorry about this, but there’s been another gate change.”

This gate is completely at the other end. I really must have been truly horrible in my past life.

Finally, an hour later, we board. Which means we land in New Orleans smack dab in rush hour. We will have an hour-plus ride in the car getting to my Baba’s house near Slidell.

I manage to get us settled for about 13 seconds before I see the lucky passenger who gets to share the row with us. I could see his face change as the stages of grief hit: sadness, denial, anger, horror. I smile apologetically. Yup, you got the short straw dude. Sorry.

I am already cursing myself for not buying Emmett his own seat. Since sitting still isn’t part of his genetic make-up, I put Fia in the middle and Em and I at the window. As soon as we take off, I boot up the brand new iPad and Fia watches Olivia. Emmett falls asleep. I look around. Can this be? I pull out my Kindle. I look around again. Am I actually going to read on this flight? I do! For about 20 minutes. I feel like I’ve won the Olympic gold. Moms don’t get to read on planes, right?

About 40 minutes in, Em wakes up and never calms down. He never cries. Instead, he shrieks in delight, jumps up and down on my thighs, pounds the window…I mean, the boy is out of control in his happy energy. I figure people can’t be pissed because I have the world’s happiest baby, right? Fia continues to watch the same episode of Olivia 11 times. In a row. Obsessive or normal toddler behavior? Not sure. Don’t care.

Before we land, I take them to the bathroom. Fia’s backside is soaked. She has peed her pants. I also don’t care. In some cultures people drink their pee. So there.

We disembark, run into Baba’s open arms, and make our way to her bayou home where there is a pet bird, a pet dog, a wild frog, a wild lizard, a toy truck, and a bottle of wine waiting (the latter for me). Vacation is off to a stellar start.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Germs Germs Go Away

Tuesday, November 1st, 2011

 

Shooting Germ Segment

I’m a germ phobe (read my blog on grout issues). I’ve gotten better but I do dig hand sanitizer. Right before I moved to LA, I was on a shoot with one of my best friends and her two daughters. They were superstars and I was so happy they agreed to be our guinea pigs. Here’s the video.

Staying Healthy At Home

As you can see, the shoot was about germs and keeping ourselves and our kids clean. A few highlights:

(note: the shoot was in conjunction with Better TV and sponsored in part by Sani-Hands, so what I learned was from the reps of the company).

Some of the top germ spots in your house are: your computer, your mouse and your cell phone (think about the iphone. Your fingers touch the same surface you talk into. It’s one of the reasons I stick with my blackberry. At least part of the front isn’t touched by my fingers).

And get this: your computer keyboard has 200 times more bacteria than a toilet sick. Gross. I could get sick right now thinking about it all.

Then there’s the usual: Doorknobs, light switches, countertops, refrigerator door handle, etc.

And even though you may not know it, you touch your face a lot during the day.

Here’s what else I learned on the shoot:

Hand sanitizer gel isn’t as effective as you may think (granted, this is the competing sani-wipes company speaking, but it kind of makes sense). You’d have to put a lot of gel in your hands to really kill all the germs. The pea or nickel size we typically use, while killing some germs, just more or less moves them around. I’m told the sani-hands wipes are more effective because they have the right dosage of germ killing power, plus the friction from wiping doesn’t spread the germs, but gets rid of them. Within 15 seconds.

I must admit, I carry little packets of alcohol wipes when I travel. Think about all the places germs linger: on airplane armrests, on remote controls, phones and light fixtures in hotels, steering wheels and stick shifts of cars. I know that many germs are important, and building up a good immune system is imperative to long term health and hygiene. But I do often wipe down some of the things I mentioned above.  The company we shot with gave me a bunch in travel size packets.

They came in handy during my barfing incident with Fia. However, I would have needed a gallon to do the job on that one.

Just figured I’d share. Flu season is nearly here. Fingers crossed none of us get it!

 

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Moving With a Barfing Baby

Wednesday, October 26th, 2011

We Broke All The Rules. TV. Pacifier.

When we got to JFK I saw 2 signs: one for the chapel and the other for the restroom. I wasn’t sure which one I needed more. Divine intervention or soap.

We had just left Brooklyn at 7 a.m. to begin our new life in LA. We looked like the Brooklyn-to-Beverly Hillbillies. We had Wayne Sanchez as one carry on, 4 other carry-ons, 4 pieces of luggage, her stroller, and of course we three humans.

The driver, like most of them in New York, kept hitting the gas and brake. Stop and go. Stop and go. I was getting worried, but just hoped we’d make it. No such luck. 10 minutes from the airport, Fia whispered, “uh oh” and out came the barf. It went everywhere. Luckily for us, I had asked to use the driver’s car seat, because I didn’t feel like dealing with installing ours at that hour.

I won’t go into the stench. All parents know how horrendous it is. Make that double horrid when you’re 7 months pregnant and your sense of smell is heightened.

Poor Fia was crying. The driver didn’t say a word. I’m sure he was furious. I told him we’d give him extra for the cleaning. Phil and I were dealing with the aftermath, trying to clean up Fia with wipes, but really there was no point. She just had to sit in her vomit. And we all had to sit in the smelly van with her vomit. The only person who wasn’t rattled was Wayne.

I rushed Fia to the bathroom and the kind TSA women who saw us rushed over some plastic bags for her clothes. Thank god for national security.

I gave her a bath in the sink and managed to get off the smell. Slightly redeemed, we rushed to our gate, the last to board, looking like the 3-ring circus we were.

The plane was packed. All our carry-ons had to go under the seat. Wayne took up so much space we were literally scrunched with our knees to our chest. Fia fell sleep on takeoff and landing. The remaining, oh, 5 hours or so, was sheer entertainment and avoiding the ambush.  Wayne didn’t make a peep.

This may have been the worse travel day of my life. Oh, but it gets better.

(more…)

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