11,000 Miles Later

We’ve had a busy summer in my house and my darling daughter, at the young age of 2 years and 9 months, has accumulated about 11,000+ frequent flier miles in just three months.

This much time in the air and traveling through airports for such great distances teaches you a lot. A lot about your kid, a lot about yourself and your partner and how well you can plan, pack and manage a long flight with a toddler and let’s not forget, it also teaches you a lot about other adults. Strangers. Especially our most recent trip, seeing as how I’m 6.5 months pregnant and the size of a house.

We just returned home from Seattle. My sister got married out there last week and DD was her precious flower girl. But it’s my thoughts from the road that I’d like to share with you today, after my long absence. Though for anyone wondering, DD made a fantastic flower girl and was really the star of the show, after the bride, of course.

Here are my observations and I take solace in knowing that I’ve survived these great distances to tell the tales:

1. If you are traveling with a child age 18 months+, and you do NOT have a portable DVD player, then I don’t feel the least bit sorry for you when things go ugly. Because they will. If you think your kid is too good for TV or you don’t want them watching TV, then you obviously haven’t actually traveled with a bona fide toddler. Get over it. You’ll save us all the misery. Go get it and let them watch it for as long as the glory lasts. But heed this advice because I, dear friends, have learned the HARD WAY (read: 9 hour flight to Europe). BEFORE purchasing your portable DVD player, investigate the BATTERY LIFE of said DVD player. Some schmuck at Target might tell you which one is the best one, but his needs aren’t your needs, and when you find out a short distance into a long flight that your battery dies after 2 hours – things really get tricky from there.

2. Snacks are good, traveling only in overnight diapers are a must-do (even for the potty trained, have you heard the sound the toilet makes when it flushes on a plane? Think a toddler is going to sit there after they hear it), wrapped “special presents” for “good girls” are good incentives – but all of these things only buy you small amounts of time. 10 minutes here, 10 minutes there – so spread them out – have things planned for going and coming – but all that really matters is that portable DVD player.  Oh – and be sure you have two changes of clothes for toddler and at least one different shirt for you and your husband – someone WILL get peed on, pooped on, puked on, or spilled on – and typically for us, within the first 20 minutes of the flight.

3. Sitting on your lap. Unfortunately the FAA has guidelines about when they must be strapped into their seat. The thing is, when you are rounding out a 5 hour flight with an overtired toddler who’s been up late and missed naps for days in a row because of wedding festivities, and she has previously been happily sitting on her dad’s lap looking out the window (yes, when preggo, I make my very tall husband have the window seat, a gal needs leg room and easy access to the toilet) – it is VERY confusing in the mind of a toddler – why can they sit on Dad’s lap sometimes but suddenly – they have to sit in their seat with a belt on. IF you think about it from their perspective, it makes no sense. The FAA can go F themselves. So just know this. Your child will probably scream. And you are trapped and there ain’t crap you can do about it. ON Saturday evening, my child screamed non-stop for the entire 15 minute descent into BWI. I really didn’t think she had it in her. Neither did DH. We have never heard her scream like that. Clearly she had forgotten why she was even crying after some time. But I found my inner-zen. I realized that there was nothing in the world we could do to stop it and in fact, each time I tried to console her, I made it worse.

So I pretended like it wasn’t happening. Somehow it made time go faster. You will become that family at some point on your trip – so be sure to not stare too much when someone else is that family. No one comes away unscathed.

4. One KT BFF summed it up perfectly when she said it’s the law of traveling with toddlers – you only get one good leg. So if your outbound flight is a breeze, then just accept and know that going home will be somewhat torture. It’s just the law of averages with the toddler. You’ll have more zen just accepting this as fact.

5. Strangers are assholes. I can’t chalk it up to just men or just women – but there are more strangers who are assholes than you can believe. I thought I’d seen it all when I was like 9 months preggo the first time and men on the metro would stare at me while luxuriating in their seat as I stood there. But that’s NOTHING on traveling with a toddler and being the size of a house and people still act like assholes. This includes flight attendants, FYI. On our outbound flight, DD hadn’t peed in at least 5 hours. She had an overnight diaper on but she was finally ready to go. And I had to pee, in fact, I was in extraordinary pain from the position of the baby. So the two of us are waddling down the aisle. What happened? The asshole man sitting in the last row of seats before the toilets saw us, sized us up, deliberately stood up right in front of us and walked into the only remaining empty stall.

What happened next? My DD started crying because she couldn’t hold it any longer and she wanted to be a big girl and go on the potty, I told her it was OK because she had a diaper on, so she squatted and peed (we are so white trash) but there was so much of it that it went all over her, her pants, socks, shoes, and me – and the floor (which I liked because the asshole flight attendant that I hated was sitting right there). To make matters worse, I continued to be in excruciating pain because this jerk was taking forever.

Bad karma befalls those who deliberately block a preggo and a toddler from using the toilet on an airplane.

So these are my thoughts and survival tips. I promise not to be so quiet anymore, work has slowed a bit, but I am one tired gal from last week’s trip.

I’m too sexy for my……..

Over the weekend, we were enjoying some leisure time on the beach. As we were leaving that afternoon, DD and myself were walking very slowly (she was most irritated that I refused to carry her) and this afforded me the time to eavesdrop, a favorite past-time of mine, of course.

I happened to be eavesdropping on a conversation amongst some little girls passing me by. My best guess is that they were 7, maybe 8 at the most. They were talking about their BODIES. Each of them was adorable and perfect, and like all women, each had a totally different build, tone, etc. One of the girls who I found to be the most muscular and frankly one of the healthiest looking, was really leading the conversation and lamenting over her size and the best times of day to eat and the ideal foods to eat to keep her weight at a minimum. As they got a bit further from me, the conversation turned to the style of swimsuit that is the most flattering for their figures.

THEIR FIGURES?

They are babies.

I was dumbfounded.

DUMBFOUNDED I tell you.

And horrified. And sad.

I wanted to pull them over immediately and interrupt this conversation and ask them why they weren’t counting their change for the ice cream man. I mean – these are little kids.

And then of course, I had to look down at my sweet DD who still lives and dies for the joy of a Popsicle at the end of a meal – and just hope that she won’t be having this conversation so early in life with her friends. Shouldn’t they be talking about puppies and unicorns still at 7? I mean, come on.

Then a KT BFF sent me a link to this article in US News & World Report titled “Too Sexy Too Soon”:

http://www.usnews.com/blogs/on-parenting/2008/8/11/too-sexy-too-soon-combating-the-sexualization-of-childhood.html

The author not only shares the same shock and horror I felt over the weekend but examines more closely the sexualization of childhood – and how this applies to both boys and girls. As my DD is inching closer and closer to three, she’s just more aware.  She’ll see something on TV and respond to it – I can’t keep her sheltered in the world of Noggin, apparently. Her most recent discovery is “Sponge Bob Squarepants” and I can’t stand it – I try to really limit it because there is no education in it and I really don’t think she can understand that show just yet. But my point is this – how long can I keep her from Hannah Montana? And those horrible Bratz dolls? And half-shirts? And learning about blow jobs?

It’s scary, kittens.

Kids need to be kids.

My stomach is still churning over hearing that conversation between the little girls en route to an afternoon on the beach.

The Things People Say

Being a 6 month preggo, I could easily write a posting on all the outrageous, obnoxious and offensive things people say to you when you are pregnant – but really – there’s nothing that I can relay to my dear readers that any of you haven’t heard before. Why the body becomes public commentary when pregnant never ceases to amaze me, but such is the reality of being pregnant, right? We move on because it ain’t gonna change.

So instead, I’d like to blog on other insane and strange things people say once becoming parents. I’m sure to get at least one person all riled up today….and well..my claws are out….

Why do some mothers make comments like this about their husbands:

“Oh, he just loves the baby so much. You just can’t believe how much he loves her (him) and dotes on her (him).”

Why? Ladies? WHY?

Know that I am rolling my eyes and throwing up in my mouth each time I hear this.

If you’re not sure why, then allow me to explain.

OF COURSE HE LOVES HIS CHILD  – HE IS THE FATHER.

Why does anyone feel the need to say that out loud? Isn’t that a given? When have you ever heard a husband saying “Oh, she just loves the baby so much, you wouldn’t believe how much my wife dotes on the baby.”

I mean – come on people. We KNOW your husband loves the baby! And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t feel like others need to be told that he loves his child.

So is it something people say because they don’t know what else to say? Because they are just sort of amazed with watching their husband become a father? Because they are insecure and were worried their husband WOULDN’T love the child? I just don’t get it. It just makes me talk about them with my husband later that night.

It’s kind of like when people marvel about how their husbands are home “babysitting” the baby if the mom has to be out one night for whatever reason. Is the mom “babysitting” her child when the dad is out late one night? I never hear it described as such. Frankly, I never hear it mentioned whatsoever. So why do women use the word “Babysitting” for their husbands watching their own spawn?

Again – I can’t blame husbands for any of this – I never hear them making these dumb ass comments.

Toddler as Feminist?

What is the old adage, out of the mouth of babes?

Well, I experienced that first hand over the weekend and I must tell you, my heart was beaming with pride.

Let me set the stage.

We’ve been talking about the joys and wonders of having a baby sister around our house for a few weeks. We talk about DD’s friends who all have a baby brother or baby sister, we talk about the fun things we can do with a baby sister, and we’ve started reading a few books at bed time about bringing home a baby sister.  It seemed to us that it just made sense to start generically talking about babies before dropping the old “oh, and you’re getting one, like it or not, come this fall” on her.

DD is like a teen. Some times when we ask her if she wants a baby sister, her response is “uh huh” and other times it’s a flat out “No.”

I love it.
Kind of like each time you ask her what she wants to be for Halloween, it’s different, ranging from a flower to a pumpkin to cowboy Dora (because she happened to be holding Cowgirl Dora at that moment and what’s the difference…cowboy, cowgirl?). Again, we don’t put much weight in the opinions of someone approaching 3.

Until Saturday evening, that is. I was reading her a story about a monster family and the day the Daddy announces the new baby sister is coming home. We were about half-way through this very age appropriate book when DD looks up at me and poses this question: “But where is the daddy?”

It had never even occurred to me.

So the daddy opens the story with informing the son that the baby sister is coming home, then he’s seen removing the jacket from the mom as she walks in the door holding the new baby sister and then..low and behold..he is not spotted again until the last page when the family is taking a walk together. Through the middle of the book, the mommy is always showing the little boy what fun things you can (and cannot) do with a baby sister, including changing stinky diapers and tickling baby’s tummy.

How brilliant DD’s observation was! Where is the daddy? Why was he not doing any of the leg work with the baby?

I was so proud. And furthermore, it was clearly a testament to her own dad and how engaged he is in her daily routine that she was struck by the total and complete absence of the father in the story.

Out of the mouth of babes, right?