In Which Gypsies and Comets Ruin My Trip

This is a first. I am blogging in bed. The laptop is propped on my lap, a bowl of popcorn with Parmesan is sitting to my left and a Coors beer to my right. I am listening to Becca scream. I guess I am not supposed to say that. I'm supposed to say that I'm listening to Becca protest as she learns to self-soothe herself to sleep without having been nursed. It is time to wean that child and she is just pissed.

So, I know you are all on tenterhooks wondering how our plane trip went, right? Let me put it this way: we made it. We're here and we're alive. The stroller and car seat, however, did not fare quite so well. The stroller made it to Dallas, and then was never seen again. Some gate agent at DFW came over while I was in line to board the plane to Seattle and offered to take the stroller for me to be gate checked. That was nice, I thought, as I stared out at the pouring rain. It sure is nice to see a little helpful customer service.

So, as we deboarded the plane I waited for the gate-checked items to be brought up. I waited. And waited. All the passengers disembarked. The cleaning crew came on. Finally the pilots and flight attendants came off the plane. No stroller. People checked and double checked. NO F*#king STROLLER! I can't believe I fell for the ol' gate agent gypsy trick where they offer to help you and actually steal your shit! When I was packing for the trip home I opted not to bring the backpack baby carrier because I really didn't need both that AND a stroller.

Wrong.

So, I toted Becca all over the Seattle airport, gasping for air as I trundled down the concourses with the World's Heaviest Diaper Bag, a child-sized backpack full of toys and books and a 22 pound squirming, exhausted, red-eyed baby. I fought back tears as I realized I would probably never see my beloved stroller with temperature gage, multiple cup holders, feeding tray and rotating canopy that matches our infant car seat in a beautiful black and white toile. So, now my next baby will have a car seat that snaps into a stroller that does not MATCH. Also, try going to the bathroom without putting your child down. Just try it sometime. Damn you, American Airlines.

I feel too exhausted to even write about the plane trip. It was long and terrible despite having empty seats next to us most of the way. If I never have to bend down to pick up another toy from a crumb-encrusted plane floor, it would be too soon. Do you know how nasty those planes are? Do you know how long a trip it is to Alaska? I purposely held off weaning Becca until after this trip, which was a good thing. Because she would not sleep! WOULD! NOT! SLEEP! unless she was nursed. Which, was majorly awkward since I sat next to all men and my kid is like 3 feet tall and dangling off my boob in a most unattractive manner.

I was trying so hard to be discreet. I held off as long as possible, until she was flailing around, crying and threatening to escalate to All Out War before I caved in. I got her all settled and sleepy until the pilot came on the intercom to announce that a comet was visible out the left side of the airplane. A comet! What are the chances? On the left side of the plane! Where I was sitting! Trying to nurse a giant toddler in private.

Every passenger lurched to the left, while I grabbed my armrest in fear of the plane also bobbling down to the left. People were hanging all over my seat, trying to look out my window. Becca woke up and flailed around and I might have flashed a few people, but what happens at 32,000 feet stays at 32,000 feet. I hope. And the comet sucked. It was hardly even visible. It just looked like a microscopic snag in the atmosphere.

I spent a lot of time looking around at people traveling without kids and thought about what a luxury it is to travel all alone. You could actually watch the movie, order a bloody mary, read a book, take a nap, not have another human grabbing your hair and smashing chewed up banana cookies on your shirt or jamming their fist into your trachea. LUXURIOUS.

We arrived at 1 a.m. in Fairbanks to find that our new Britax car seat was drenched. Drenched and smelling of the most horrific moldy odor. It wasn't just the cover that was wet, but the expensive "memory foam" under the cover. That is not removable OR washable. So, we strapped poor Becca into the wet, STANKY seat for the drive home.

See? Exhausting. I don't even want to talk about it anymore. Becca held up well, for the most part. It could have been much worse. It is nice to be back. John cooked us hamburgers for lunch and spaghetti for dinner on Saturday. Becca went to bed and John and I split a bottle of Yellow Tail Shiraz while chatted for a long time. Today we went to church, where, as usual, the minister was great and the music was horrendous. Then, I took a nap, and tried to unpack. It has been nice to laze around for the past two days, totally ignoring our great plans for an outdoor adventure.

My popcorn is gone and my beer is down to the dregs. Becca has quit crying. I guess I should get off my lazy butt and put away the Christmas decorations.