And Why I Especially Hate Airplanes

Warning:  We're still in the gross post series.  But this is the last one, I promise.

We made it on the plane.  My clothes were drenched in throw up, Babykins was still wearing nothing but a diaper and Crocs, and we had run out of both wipes and plastic bags, but at least...

No, at this point there was no bright side.  We had a 10 hour flight ahead of us and no end in sight to the great throw up marathon.

I'll give you the condensed version: Babykins threw up 3 more times before passing out for the rest of the flight.  I changed clothes three times, eventually ending up in my least disgusting pair of pants (which were still extremely gross) and a sweater with no buttons that I wore backwards and secured shut with a hair tie.  Auntie MO spent the entire flight freezing because I had borrowed her sweatshirt when I ran out of tops, and Babykins promptly threw up on it.  The little boy sitting in the seat across the aisle spent the entire flight trying not to look at us.  And because the flight attendants were completely un-helpful, the person who sat in my seat on the next flight was going to have a wet, smelly trip.

Throw up count: 9 (plus once more on the car ride to the Q, but really, by now, who's counting?)

Why I Also Hate Cars and Airports

The carpet was still stained a bright orange, and Babykins was wearing nothing but a diaper and Crocs, but we eventually made it out of the house and started the 20 minute drive to the airport.

Our trip to Pennsylvania may not have started as planned, but at least now I was prepared.  Auntie MO and I both had plastic bags stuffed in our pockets, I had wipes in the diaper bag, and really, after not eating for 3 days, then throwing up twice, how much more could Babykins have left in her stomach?

Apparently, a lot.

By the time we got to the airport, Babykins had thrown up 3 more times, covering herself, her car seat, and most of the back seat in half digested fruit snacks and depleting half of our plastic bag supply.

I popped her out of her car seat and started wiping her down, only to discover a bright red fruit snack lodged firmly in her belly button.  We had officially hit the point of not being able to decide whether to laugh or cry.

Auntie MO and I squared our shoulders, grabbed the bags and a still naked Babykins, and headed for the airport.

Half an hour later, we were through security and waiting at the gate, feeling relief.  This was the longest Babykins had gone without throwing up.  The worst seemed to be behind us.

And then Babykins let go, covering herself, my clothes, and our boarding passes in a huge amount of slime.

Throw up count: 6

To Be Continued...

Why I Hate Froot Loops

Warning:  The next few posts are slightly gross.  Read at your own risk.

For most of November, Babykins was sick.  I mean multiple doctor visits, a trip to the ER, and enough medication to heal a small country, sick.  We were frantically trying to get her healthy, not just because healthy is better than sick, but also because we had a deadline looming in the form of a 10 hour flight to Pennsylvania.

Three days before the flight, Babykins was off her medicine and causing general mischief, which I typically take as a sign that the germs have been defeated.  I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.  We still had a long flight to survive (without Daddykins!), but Auntie MO was coming with us and I was armed with a portable DVD player and multiple Elmo videos.  I had stared down potential disaster and lived to laugh at it.

An hour before we had to leave for the airport, Auntie MO and I were gathering the bags and feeding Babykins a quick snack.  Our flight was scheduled to leave on time, everything was ready to go out the door, and I was feeling good.  I sat down on the sofa with Babykins to put on her shoes, when she gave a little cough.  Which was immediately followed by projectile vomiting.  And just like that, our rented beige carpet was covered in throw up.  Bright orange throw-up, because for the first time ever I'd let Babykins eat Froot Loops.

Panic ensued.  Babykins was crying.  I was trying to get the stain out of the carpet before it set.  And then I heard another cough.  I grabbed Babykins and made a dash for the kitchen.  We got there just in time for her to throw up in the sink.

At this point, we have 10 minutes until we need to leave for the airport.  Babykins and I are covered in throw up.  The carpet is covered in throw up.  And I'm starting to get a veeeery bad feeling about this flight.

Throw up count: 2

To Be Continued...

Monkey See, Monkey Do

Our 17 month-er has become quite the mimic lately.  Like all parents, we've learned to watch what we say.  No word is too difficult for Babykins, and you never know when it'll pop out of her mouth.  From bathing suit to motorcycle to crayons, Babykins is constantly displaying her new verbal prowess.

What's really cute, though, is watching her imitate our actions.  The other weekend I decided I would take advantage of a few minutes when Babykins was playing independently to work out.  I started with a few wall push-ups.  Around push-up number 10, I looked down to find Babykins standing directly underneath me, hands on the wall, bending her little elbows! 

I decided to do a little experiment.  After finishing up my push-ups, I moved to the floor to do sit-ups.  Sure enough, Babykins followed along and laid down beside me.  She couldn't quite manage the sit-ups, but she put her hands behind her head and pumped her little legs in the air with vigor. 

Next, it was on to yoga.  As I went through the Sun Salute, Babykins faced me, reached for the ground, and did a fabulous Down Dog!  The smile and excitement on her face was priceless.

Since then, Babykins has continued to imitate Hubbykins and me as we go about our days.  Whether it's dancing to a favorite song, talking on the phone, or blowing on hot food, she's right there, ready to put the toddler twist on everything we do.

Now, if she would just imitate me eating some veggies...

Self Discipline

Outside of the door leading to our parking garage is a wooden door stop.  Babykins is obsessed with it.  Every time we walk out of the door, Babykins makes a beeline for the door stop.  We don't let her take it with us, and she refuses to put it down, which leads to an extremely long stand off every time we try to walk to the car.

To help nip the problem in the bud, Hubbykins and I started going out the door first, putting a foot on the door stop, and saying, "Leave it.  No touch."  Babykins would come over, look at the door stop under our feet, then turn and walk toward the garage.

Last week, as Babykins and I were walking back to the apartment to the car, I saw Babykins spot the door stop.  She stopped and stared for a minute, then changed direction and walked toward it.  I held my breath, waiting to see what she would do.

Babykins walked right up to the door stop, looked down at it, pointed her little finger, and gave a stern, "No."  She said, "No" twice more, placed her foot firmly on the door stop for a minute, then turned and walked to the door.

Since then, she's glanced at the door stop ocassionally as we walk by, but has never again picked it up.  That's what I call self discipline.

Another First: Swim Lessons!

We live on an island.  There's a lot of water.  Which is why we recently decided to start Babykins in swim lessons.

Every Sunday Hubbykins takes Babykins to the local YMCA where they have a 1/2 hour less in (get this, East Coast-ers!) an outdoor pool!  There's no cold water, no shivering as you stand in line outside the pool, and very few tears.

The toddler class is a series of fun water games.  They play "Clean up the Ocean" where the kiddies gather up plastic fish and throw them out of the pool.  This is followed by "The Wheels on the Boat" and "Ring Around the Dolphin."  Babykins' favorite game is Humpty Dumpty.  The kids stand next to the pool holding a toy.  They throw the toy in the pool, then jump in after it, into their parents arms.  Babykins could happily play this game all day.  Class finishes up with practice splashing, kicking, and blowing bubbles. 

After 3 classes, Babykins can't swim on her own, but she's started moving her arms and kicking her legs.  Who knows what she'll be able to do after another 3!

First Things First

Babykins has been a busy girl, lately.  Here, a few of her recent "firsts":

Hair Cut
We love Babykins' hair.  She inherited shiny gold ringlets from Hubbykins that bounce when she runs and look good even after a nap.  For months we avoided her first hair cut, opting instead for a steady stream of barrettes and palm trees.  Finally, though, we had to admit - when the baby's hair is flopping over her nose, it's time for a trim.

We took Babykins to Pigtails and Crew Cuts, a kids-only salon where they entice little ones with cheerfully decorated capes and chairs shaped like cars.  When we arrived, Babykins was excited.  She wandered around staring at the other kids in their cars, pointing and ohh-ing.  When it was her turn, she sat right down and began playing with the steering wheel.  Things got even better when the cape went on.  And then, best of all, the hair dresser handed her a cup of Animal Crackers. 

With so much excitement, Babykins barely noticed when the hair dresser first combed her hair, then put it back in a clip.  The first spray of water caught her attention, though, and by the time the scissors took their second snip, Babykins had thrown her head back and was crying and screaming with all of her might.

Luckily, along with fun chairs and cookies, the store also stocks up on hair dressers who aren't phased by screaming babies.  Within seconds, Babykins had a new set of bangs, a lock of shiny hair in a bag, and a (slightly teary) picture of her first hair cut ready to go in her baby book.

Up next: Babykins' first swim lesson