2008 May 06

Last fall my husband and I took our three kids on a plane ride to CA to visit my husband’s grandparents and to take in some National Parks. The trip itself is worthy of a post, someday, but for now I’ll just share about our flight out there….

It seems obvious that when flying with three kids under 3 you bring a lot of stuff. We knew we would have to change flights half way so we tried to keep things to a minimum. The hardest part was maneuvering through the airports with our hands full of kids, toys, car seats, food…. We got quite a few stares as we were standing in line at security. I am sure people were thinking, “Please let them not be on my flight!!” Going through security was a bit stressful (had to wake the sleeping baby) and I was really glad we had not brought any more junk.

Getting onto the flight wasn’t too bad. The flight itself, really wasn’t that bad either. The kids were pretty well behaved. Except…

About an hour into our 5 hr flight the baby pooped. Let me tell you, it was the mother load. Picture my husband squatting in the aisle as he changes her diaper which has exploded all over her onesie, all the way up her back. There is no good place on a plane to change a diaper. She pretty much got a sponge bath right there in the isle and the poor lady next to my husband was kind enough to hand him wipe after wipe from the dispenser. I really don’t know what we would have done if she were not so understanding. Poop was everywhere!

Remember how I said we had packed light? I didn’t pack a spare onesie in the diaper bag (rookie mistake… I know). My poor baby spent the rest of the day topless with just a diaper and pants. We wrapped her in a blanket to try to keep her warm, it was no way to travel with a baby. I was feeling pretty self conscious in the airport about the fact that I was walking around with a half naked baby. I kept saying really loudly, “You poor baby, it stinks that you pooped in your clothes.” I thought this would show those in earshot that I didn’t intentionally dress her this way and perhaps it would persuade them that I am not TOO HORRIBLE of a mother.

In Sacramento, we had to spend a good amount of time in the baggage claim area working out issues with the airline because they had lost our infant seat. During this time we changed ANOTHER exploded diaper.. bye bye pants, our poor baby was down to just a diaper… thankfully we could just open up our suitcase and change her in the baggage claim office while filling out paper work. What a great picture, huh?

Packing minimally is WHAT DIDN’T WORK FOR ME… when flying with an infant, no matter how much stuff you’re already lugging onto the plane, PACK THE EXTRA SET OF CLOTHES in your carry on.

For more lessons learned from others, check out Rocks in My Dryer this week for What Doesn’t Work For Me.

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My son is very smart (every mother says this about her children so I might as well enjoy my entitlement). He is only 4 but he has always had a knack for asking good questions and is satisfied by only believable answers. We pride ourselves on honesty so that “believable answer” always contains the truth but not necessarily more truth then is absolutely required. Case in point: For a year we got away with calling a certain, frequent and noticeable neighborhood visitor, “the music truck”. It’s pretty incredible how long this worked… Until, late last season when our then three year old son said, “Hey mom, did you know the music truck sells ice cream?” The secret was out.

It is the start of the new season and this weekend we bought our kids their first ice cream from the ice cream man. We had wanted to get it on our son’s birthday, but that was the one day the ice cream man didn’t appear. The next day he came, but Daddy wasn’t home and I thought Daddy and Mommy should both be present for such a momentous occasion. I told my son and he said, “Well, can we call him and have him come back later?” As I tried to explain that you can’t call the ice cream man, he just comes when he wants to and you get it then… I realized how bizarre of a custom this is. How is it that parents have let them get away with this? This truck comes into our neighborhood playing really loud, annoyingly catchy tunes, and sells sugar to our kids at exorbitant prices ($2.00 for a fudge bar when I could buy a box for a little more than that)?! And it does this at the time of it’s choosing. Nap time, no problem. During dinner, you bet. Last year the music truck could frequently be heard while we were getting the kids ready for bed (it was the timing thing that caused us to keep them in the dark for so long). It’s really quite odd we let this go on at all. How would we react if the mail truck drove around with his stereo blaring?

While I do find it odd you definitaly won’t see me leading any neighborhood movements. There is something about hearing the tune of “Pop Goes the Weasel” when your not expecting it, and the promise of a yummy cold treat, that just makes you giddy. The feeling of nostalgia you get when you head to the truck to pick out your treat sometimes makes it taste better than when it comes out of your freezer. It’s fun to treat your kids and the smiles on their faces are worth the 2.00 price of admission…even if you don’t get to pick when the show starts.

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