Vacation Time

I love vacations. Who doesn't? I LOVE vacations. Anything remotely involving or including vacations, I love! Even Vacation Bible School, or as my lil' sis used to say, "Shakin' Bible School," I love it! The ability to unleash that free spirit upon the world and discover something new, ah, perfection. But oh, how to travel now when the free spirit is weighed down by a heavy diaper bag and not one, but two car seats!

This is the first year that I am hesitant about going on vacation. I love the idea of seeing my in-laws and all my oober cute nieces and nephews. I don't love the idea of flying cross-country twice with two babies and then spending seven days trying to readjust schedules while trying to calm said babies out of their hysteria.

I hate flying. Hate it, hate it, hate it. There is something extremely unnatural about leaving the ground in a tuna fish can on wheels by hurtling your body and belongings thousands of miles into the air at a ridiculous speed. I am not afraid of death, but I really prefer not to experience any kind of terrifying plunging sensation via a ball of fire before I meet my maker

I also despise airplane bathrooms, especially when flying with babies. Have you ever tried to change a massive poop diaper on an airplane? You have two options.

#1 Change it in the small closet they insist is a bathroom, with no changing table or other flat surface that is not occupied by a shallow bowl with space age suction power and alien blue water. This means you have to put your small baby or squirming toddler on your propped up knee and balance him there, flamingo-style while you change the diaper.

#2 You can change the diaper in your seat with two very upset people on either side of you.

Yeah. The last time the Bear pooped at my parent's house, my Dad said, "Can somebody take care of this please? It smells like the end of the world!"

Letting him stay in the dirty diaper for a three hour flight is NOT an option. I have to change him. Do I let him come in contact with all the disgusting airplane bathroom germs or do I offend everyone in a 7 row radius by changing him on my lap? And what to do with it afterwards? Puke bag does not equal diaper genie, it is a fact.

I also really can't handle that occasional control-freak-stewardess we seem to run across at least once a year when we travel back and forth for visits. You know the tight-lipped, tuck your bag in UNDER your feet, excuse me but your seat has one inch left to go before it's in the FULL upright position, NO the two hundred foot plunge we just took is completely normal, fascist flight dictator in the form of a frumpy stu?

Yes, her. I don't do well with those. Especially when they start getting uppity about not breast-feeding babies on flights. Oh lady. If I just endured half a flight with a cranky toddler, a massive poop diaper, sore arms from wrestling seven pieces of baby gear out of the car and onto the plane, and my baby starts crying for my milk and you give me attitude about it? I know I can't yell at you because in the cruel world of air law you have an unfair amount of authority, but I WILL get my toddler to puke on you and I will STILL breast feed my baby. What are you going to do? Confiscate my boob?

After the flight, there is a three hour car trip and then a crazy five day adventure with the in-laws. We will have seven kids under the age of six in one house. If I bring a lot of migraine medication and a very small bottle of tequila, I think I can survive.

In all honesty, I can't wait to get my arms around all those little kiddos. I miss them all the time. The Bear is going to learn all sorts of things from them this week and I know J has missed them all terribly. So this Mom is going to cope with the two long flights, the frumpy stu, and the crazy house and schedule. Because after all the sunburns, mosquito bites, grass stains, marshmellow goo, tickle fights and endless baby wipes, I'll cry when we say good-bye and I will think about them all year long until we meet again.

I've wrangled a few new tricks for baby gear and easy travel. I will experiment with all these new gadgets and report when I get back for any Momma's following my blog. I thrive on organization and schedules. It's annoying, I know, but I love having everything in order. Oddly enough, I also love it when my kids get messy. Go figure. If my kid isn't covered from head to toe in food after eating or in dirt after playing outside then I am not happy!

I hope that this week is a messy one with some semblance of an organized schedule.

Vacation time, here we come!