8 SIMPLE STEPS TO GETTING FREE WINE ON A PLANE (or "flying with a baby")

"Flying with a tiny child is actually not that hard, as long as you do not relax for a second and maintain the alertness of a ninja for 12 hours straight.  On a plane there is nowhere to go, no matter how detailed your fantasy of breaking through a window and parachuting to safety. It’s just you, Baby Medusa, 300 judgmental stares and the reminder that you aren’t a normal person anymore. You’re a parent, and maybe you should just stay home until high school." -- from "Flying with my toddler is easy" by Corinne Purtill

I've been absent for a couple weeks.  

Solchop and I just returned from a sunny tropical vacation!

Vacation.  BAH.  

... it was supposed to be a vacation.

We returned Saturday morning and I spent the duration of the day enjoying some much-needed and long-awaited relaxation.  It's safe to say that I was not able to relax in Florida.

Who knew that toting my spawn to a sandy Gulfside paradise would be such a chore?  Between the nightmarish flights to and fro, the constant applications battles to apply SPF 50, the incessant "leave your hat on!" instructions to a 14-month-old who could care less whether her little head was burnt to a crisp, and trying to entertain a baby (who wanted to be on the floor, and in your arms, and outside, and inside, and in the dishwasher, and out on the beach, and up on the pier, and in the pool, and out of the pool, and in the pool, and out of the pool, and in the pool, and out of the pool, and... [you get the point] ), I AM WHIPPED.

Where to begin...?  Air travel.  Now that I have survived two hellish flights with my own 1-yr-old, I can safely say that I now know what to do [and what not to do].  Let's first talk about how I got 3 free bottles of wine from the flight attendant [and I fly coach, people...].

There are 8 simple steps:

Step 1: On the night before you leave, take baby to Taco Bell for the first time (this step is vital; do not skip).  Make sure he/she eats an entire bean burrito to provide ample gas and diarrhea the following morning.

 

Step 2: Absentmindedly forget to pack any wipes in your diaper bag.  While you're at it, make sure to pack the diaper rash cream in your checked bag so that there is none in your carry-on diaper bag.

Step 3: In keeping with the "absentminded" theme, forget to bring any entertainment for the plane.  Make sure to plan ahead, put good thought into it, and buy a boatload of new toys ahead of time; then leave all newly-purchased toys (aka "baby's in-flight entertainment") at home.

Step 4: If possible, schedule the flight for a point in time when your toddler is uber-mobile and impossible to contain.  Bonus points if baby has an undiagnosed double ear infection and/or is teething.

Step 5: Dress baby in brightly-colored striped leggings and attention-grabbing mini Converse All-Star shoes... these will win the hearts of those around you and invite oodles of "ohmigosh, those shoes/leggings/fill-in-the-blank's are adorable" comments.

Step 6: Plant yourself in seats at the very back of the plane, directly in front of the flight attendants, to ensure that they are most definitely affected by the inevitable screams.

Step 7: Make sure your seatbelt is securely fastened and your seat back and tray table are in their full upright positions.  Then attempt to contain your screaming/writhing/back-arching baby in your lap, allow beadlets of sweat to form along your hairline, and [in a very conspicuous manner] proceed to take deep breaths and count to 10... over and over.

Step 8: Be sure to act surprised and enormously grateful as flight attendant John gifts you a tiny bottle (or three, ahem) of Cabernet because [according to John], "I think you're gonna need this, sweetheart."  Bonus points if John throws in a bag of animal crackers for the baby beast in your lap.

 True story.  

This all happened to us on the flight there... 3 bottles of wine and all.  On a brighter note, the trip home was a smidge more successful, with Sol holding off about 1 hr into the trip before starting the incessant screaming.  Thank goodness for a stranger sitting a row behind me and across the aisle, because Sol climbed right into her lap and was content.  For. The. Entire. Rest. Of. The. Trip.  I don't know her name, I don't know her story, but she was a blonde angel at 30,000 feet, assigned to seat 13D to help me maintain what little sanity I had left.  You're a saint, 13D :)  I'm sure the rest of Flight 650 thanks you as well.

If you and your baby/toddler have some air travel plans looming ahead, here are some tips:

• Visit your doctor before the trip, and make sure your child is in tip-top shape.  BABIES WITH EAR INFECTIONS WILL BE YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE ON A PLANE.  And we all know that ear infections are a) invisible to the layperson and b) can sometimes go undetected until the least opportune moment.  Better safe than sorry.
• Book nonstop flights if possible.  While airports are pretty cool because they're massive and they allow baby to roam and burn off that seemingly-unstoppable energy, it's best to just get the trip overwith.
• Aim for an aisle seat.  This gives you just a smidge more room, and will help keep baby from climbing all over Stranger 1 and Stranger 2.
• Bring all necessary documentation -- your photo ID or passport, as well as Baby's birth certificate (or ID, if you have one).
• Pack your diaper bag, and pack smart.  Bring wipes, extra pacifiers, and good diapers (I'm a proponent of generic brands, but air travel is not the time to be changing diapers over and over, so make sure you have premium protection on that booty).
• Dress your child in layers.  Cabin temperature can hit some major peaks and valleys, and you'll want to make sure baby is comfortable at all times.
• Allow extra time in the airport.  There are some TSA agents that will bump you to the head of the security line (this happened to us, and it was ahhh-maz-ing!), but you should plan for a long line at security.
• Slip-on shoes.  Period.  You don't want to be tying your shoes and chasing a baby.
• If you're lucky enough to be traveling with another adult, send them ahead with the gear to board the plane, and you wait [with baby] until the very last minute to board.  This will allow that wiggly, squirmy monster extra time to roam freely before being confined to a tiny airplane seat.
• Bring a pacifier clip.  I did not bring one, and found myself reaching under the seats 8 million times to find Sol's pacifier.  Could have been avoided.
• Bring lots of new/fun/small toys as entertainment.  Fill a bag with new and cheap (ex: Dollar Store) toys and offer one to your child every 15 mins or so... and cycle through them a couple times.  Wrap them up if you wish, which offers an added layer of fun (no pun intended).  Here's a genius idea: bring a roll of masking tape for your toddler to play with.  This is brilliant.  Quiet, sticky, NOT messy, cheap rolls of fun. 
• Bring more drinks and snacks than you think you'll need.  FYI: the 3-ounce rule does NOT apply to baby's milk or formula (nor to medications or diaper rash cream, for that matter).  So pack that milk and keep baby happy.
• When possible (and if a tantrum rears its ugly head), go for a walk down the aisle.  A change of scenery can do wonders.
• Allow for exceptions to your rules.  If you've been trying to break away from the pacifier or lovie, an airplane ride is not the time to enforce.  Let it go for these few hours.  Do anything to keep your kid (and the other passengers) happy.  I'm all for traditional learning toys, but for something as taxing as a plane ride, a toy like the Fisher-Price Apptivity iPhone case would be PHENOM.
• Be flexible.  Even if you've made your list and checked it twice, even if you think you're prepared to handle anything (whatever, Superparent), it will take one tiny tantrum in one crowded plane to humble you.  Take deep breaths and bear in mind that baby is taking cues from you.  Upset yourself and you'll likely upset Baby.  And remember: when you're the parent with the screaming toddler, the other passengers are probably not judging you, but empathizing with you.  If anyone offers help, TAKE IT.
• Smile.  When your child is draining you of every last ounce of sanity, smile.  Onlookers will think you're a rockstar.

***

Bon voyage!

***

Do you have any tips for traveling with an infant or toddler?  Share them!

SAVOR MY SOL

My days and weeks are flying by.  Seriously, 9- or 10-hour workdays fly by in what seems like 45 minutes. Monday happens, and then all of a sudden it's Friday afternoon and I can't remember what happened this week.  I can't remember if Sol did anything fun on Tuesday, and I can't remember what we ate for dinner last night.  At work today I got a peek at the large desk calendar that's been buried under mounds of work, and I saw that I was still looking at February.  When did it become March?  And as I started marking off each consumed day in March (with a pink highlighter, BECAUSE I CAN), I realized it was March 22.  Honestly, I could've just waited a week and flipped straight to the April page. 


The time is going by too quickly and I feel like I'm not really experiencing anything.  We do our daily routine: I go to work while she spends 80% of her waking time with strangers, and we come home and eat and bathe and go to bed.  And the next day is the same.  All of a sudden I find myself looking at photos from when we went to visit Santa at the mall, and there I am, but I'm holding this chubby-cheeked child... whom I barely recognize.

Why am I taking someone else's daughter to meet Santa?

Oh wait, that child belongs to me. 

And then I look at the picture of the little lady I took to daycare this morning.  

That child belongs to me too.

The child in the picture above (you know, the one clutching the pink bunny) has has a rough few weeks.  She survived the Bubonic Plague of the Bierlein Household in early March, she's left one daycare, tried 3 more... all the while with a runny nose and a constant cough.  She's been sick and thrown into new situations.  And while she's trying to adjust, things don't always fall into place so easily.  And I get that.  My heart breaks as I see her struggling.  I see my 1-year-old child trying to establish a normal routine in the midst of new people, new colors and noises and sounds, trying to take naps in a new place.  Trying to eat sweet potatoes and peas at daycare while all the other kids are eating green eggs and turkey sausages in honor of St. Patrick.

In the midst of all that turbulence, Sol and I both take comfort in one thing: the unyielding, unshakable, interminable bond that connects us as mother and daughter.  I am hers, and she is mine.  I knew it from the moment I saw a positive pregnancy test, from the moment I felt the flutter of a tiny human in my expanding belly.  I knew it as I held my child for the first time, terrified, just seconds after she took her first breath.  A mother's love for her child is absolutely indescribable, and to see Sol upset is like taking a knife to the heart.  So in these days of instability all I can do is love her.

We spend quiet nights on the couch, just the two of us.  After a year of refusing to snuggle with me, she's finally taken comfort in sitting on my lap, clutching her pink bunny, laying her head on my chest and feeling the rhythm of the heart that beats for her.  I talk to my sleepy Sol about how incredible she is, and I tell her of the grand plans I envision for her.  I tell her how much I love her; and after sending up a silent prayer of thanks for the miracle in my arms, I thank her for the life she's given me.  I thank her for every frustrating 3am wake-up that helps me learn patience.  I thank her for every snort/chuckle hybrid that escapes her mouth and makes my soul do a somersault.  I thank her for showing me that perfect love is not only possible but necessary.

Before I know it, I've talked her to sleep and she's snoring softly on my chest, her eyelashes laid delicately atop her resting eyes.  Her chubby hand is still gripped tightly around the soft pink bunny that's clearly become her source of security in a world of uncertainty.  Just when my mind starts to wander and I think, 'If I had chosen a different route...'  her tiny snores snatch my attention and I fall in love all over again.  In moments like these, I get to savor my Sol.

THE SOUNDTRACK OF A DYING BLOGGER

Well, it happened.  Everyone I know has been sick in the last week.  This past weekend, Sol and I made our way up to Frankenmuth to work at an auction (fundraiser for this summer's mission trip to Guatemala).  We left our friends here in southwest Michigan... and, as it turns out, for good reason.  They all became violently ill with a nasty stomach flu. 

And while I was sorry they were sick, I thought --> Sol and I certainly can't afford to be sick... glad we're all the way on the other side of the state.

... [do you see where this is going?]

As it turns out, that nasty flu was more widespread than I thought.  It took my sister Amanda down on Monday.  Sol was sick on Tuesday, which [oh yes] means Melanie couldn't go to work.  Mama Mel went back to work Wednesday, feeling invincible, feeling on top of the world.

... [seriously, do you see where this is going?]

So there I was yesterday afternoon, sitting at my desk, diligently working and listening to Lou Monte radio on Pandora (think peppy Olive Garden songs), when all of a sudden that little twinge of nausea came creeping up my throat.  I leaned my head back and repeated to myself, "This is not happening."  And with that mantra, I scared that little twinge away.  And I continued working. 

Then that same nausea surfaced again, but this time it had grown to be 50x larger, and it was no longer a twinge of nausea... it was a typhoon wave of nausea that kept crashing into my esophagus, each crash making the sound "omg-this-is-the-end-I-am-going-to-die-and-I-can't-even-move."  Then the peppy Olive Garden songs quit playing on Pandora, and so began the soundtrack of Melanie's slow and painful death.  I sat there in my office, suffering the 2013 version of the Bubonic Plague, my face turning an odd shade of gray/green, as my computer blared "Torna a Surriento" at me (click HERE to listen, or use the video below). 

**I think the first peak of nausea hit around 1:20... the second hit around 2:26... **

Nothing makes you want to crawl into a hole and die more than terribly obnoxious Italian opera from which you can't escape due to paralysis by stomach flu.  If that's not a recognized medical diagnosis, ladies and gentlemen, I'll eat my socks.

I went home early from work yesterday

and spent the duration of the evening dying on the bathroom floor.

I did not go into work today. 

RAMBLINGS ON A TUESDAY

It's Tuesday!

<<<>>>

First off, look how big my MiniMon is getting!  I picked her up from daycare last week and she had a ponytail... hard to believe it's been 10 (yes, TEN) months!

^^ channeling Cindy Lou Who

  A few weeks ago the Sol child went to her 9-month appointment.  We got shots.  We were sad.  Well, she was sad.  I was sort of geeked that she was adequately inoculated by the standards set by the State of Michigan.

 You know what's reaaaalllly good?  Real carrots.  Not the fake baby carrots that are bleached beyond recognition and pressed into nubby little hunks.  Real carrots.  If you haven't had a REAL carrot in a while, do yourself a favor and try one.  They're so sweet... I almost forgot about real carrots.

Last week my sister and I ran a 5k - the Run Through the Lights in downtown Kzoo.  It was more of a "run through the sketchy neighborhoods" than "through the lights," but whatever.  People get CRAZY dolled up for this run, and Liz and I were no exception.  I donned as many red and green clothes as I could find, and Liz and I strapped some battery-operated Christmas lights to our persons, and we were off.  Then we went for dinner and a beer afterwards, still in our hodge-podge holiday outfits, Christmas lights still ablaze, and of course I saw some people from work.  They asked me if I lost a bet.  Awesome.  And in keeping with the holiday spirit, I found these uber-fabulous Christmas-color rhinestones that I wanted to put on my face.  They wouldn't stick to my face, so of course I pulled out the superglue (and my mom will tell you I've been banned from superglue since 2001) and adhered them.  Stuck 'em on real nice and good.  THAT, ladies and gents, is a mistake you make only once.  Note to self: supergluing anything to one's face is poor planning.

Liz told me I looked like an Indian princess at Christmastime.
I'll take that as a compliment... though I'm not sure it was one.

 Last week we had an office Christmas party/gift exchange over lunch (Yankee Swap, Dirty Santa, Chinese Christmas, etc... pretty much whatever derogatory name you can think of for a "random gift exchange").  Ant it was fabulous.  We had these uber cool Solo cups where you could scratch your name into the side of them.  AWESOME.  And I got a "Christmas survival kit," complete with a bottle of wine and goodies from a local shop called The Cheese Lady.  And lately I've been all kinds of interested in fancy cheeses (which are so not vegan, but at least they're vegetarian).  So this camper was a happy camper.

 This past Sunday I took MiniMon to an urgent care center; little lady had an ear infection.  The doctor who saw us looked just like Santa Claus (and yes, I actually do believe it was him), and he told us Merry Christmas {whoa}.  I had the very best service I've ever had at this particular center (for the record, Kzoo-ians, it was Hometown Urgent Care).  They were fast, VERY friendly (something you don't get often at an after-hours doctor's office), and today I even got a follow-up phone call to ask how Sol was.  I would go back there any day. Thank you, Dr. Santa.

I went for a run on my lunch break today, and my shoes were digging into my ankles.  It was sunny... sort of cold, but decent enough.  So I took my shoes off and carried them the rest of the way.  And ran barefoot.  {if I never had to put another shoe on again for the rest of my life, I'd die happy}

It turned out okay, and I was fine for the duration of the run.  When I got back to the office, however... I realized the toll it had taken.  That's gonna hurt for the next few days... So will the blister on the other foot.  That'll teach me to run barefoot in December.

Ouch.

<<<>>>

And with that, I'm out.  Talk soon :)

PATIENCE: NOT MY STRONG SUIT

First things first: TODAY IS MiniMon's DUE DATE!!!

Well, it happened.  I had my turn at false labor.  I was having contractions all Thursday night, couldn't sleep, and ended up calling my doctor at 3am.  He told me to take some Tylenol, take a warm bath, and check back in the morning.  So after drawing myself a nice warm bath and trying to doze in it (using a rolled-up towel as a pillow), I realized I would probably drown myself before anything productive happened.  So I got out, went back to bed, caught maybe an hour of sleep, and headed to work.  Contractions continued all day until I saw my doctor at 3pm.  After an uneventful non-stress test (monitoring both Baby B's heartbeat and my contractions), they sent me home.  So here I sit, Monday morning, after an entirely unsuccessful weekend of long walks and spicy food, waiting for Baby to signal that he/she is ready to join the outside world. 

This weekend I realized for the very first time that I'm waiting IMPATIENTLY.  Had you asked me six months, three months, or even just one month ago, I would've told you that I wanted Baby B to arrive late because I just wasn't ready in any respect.  It goes without saying that my pregnancy wasn't all rainbows and sunshine.  However, I can't deny that with time, prayer, love and support from my family, I felt less hopeless and more excited about the baby that was coming into the world.  Looking through the journal I kept during my pregnancy, I see too many early entries about feeling alone, sad, and hopeless.  However, things start to look a little brighter after I broke the news to my family.  The following entry, for example, was written after I had told both of my sisters about Baby B:

August 7, 2011:  Dear Baby, I wonder what you look like.  I wonder what color your hair will be, and what color your eyes will be.  My Baby :) I'm sorry I've been so sad.

It was pointless that I ever felt so sad about something so amazing.  Expecting a baby is never a curse; it is always a blessing for SOMEONE.   Today I couldn't be happier that I was able to get past the sadness and find the joy in my pregnancy. 

And here I am, on my due date, and I can't wait to meet my little monster!  I can't wait to kiss Baby's nose and have Baby's perfect little hand wrapped around my finger.  I can't wait to watch my little one sleep, or to hear him or her cry for the very first time.  Above all, I can't wait for the moment when the doctor places Baby B. on my chest for the first time.  I can't even imagine what that will feel like.  It's surreal to have lived every day of the past nine months, both waking and sleeping, with this little human living right there inside my belly.  And although I've probably felt every possible emotion about my baby throughout this pregnancy, I feel nothing but elation and excitement now.  I love this baby more than I ever thought was humanly possible.  You can come on out whenever, Baby - there are plenty of people who can't wait to meet you!