We Made It!

Eliana and her mama had one hell of a day yesterday. We started bright and early when Daddy left for his bachelor backpack/ski trip in British Columbia. Actually we started at about five when Eliana woke up and nursed. Mama never really went back to sleep and next thing I knew I was hugging my husband and saying adios for a week. Around eleven, when it seemed to be time for Elie to nap, we hit the road for the three hour trip to Spokane. After about twenty minutes, Eliana was asleep and mama was ready for her to sleep for the next few hours. But after about forty minutes, she started to stir. It was hot back there in the carseat and even with the weirdo window shade thingys that I bought from Target just for this trip, the sun seemed to be hitting her pretty hard. Oh sweet pale horse! We made it to the bustling town of Wallace, Idaho, where I decided to take her out, cool her off, and give her some food. Of course the one little coffee shop was closed, so we found a park bench and Elie downed a jar of baby food. We then changed her nappy on the counter of some random restaurant bathroom and got ready to load up again. I was sure she would go down. Nope. Just fussing and heat and chatting from the backseat. Finally we were in Spokane. Just as we approached the sign for the airport, I checked the mirror. Eliana had dropped off. Just in time for me to stop driving. Good God.

Do I drive around after three long hours just to ensure she sleeps, or do I park the car, stretch my legs and wake my child? I opted for the latter (bad idea) as she promptly woke up the minute the car stopped. We gathered all our gear (and I mean, ALL our gear), and waited for the shuttle driver to take us to the airport. At this point I was pretty damn exhausted. I think I get so anxious when I have to do these types of things. The whole day had been a stony sort of haze -- my mind seemed to have two modes, checking the little mirror to see if Eliana was asleep and checking the road for wildlife, scary drivers or freaky mountain pass curves. I didn't even want to listen to music. I felt like I had to focus supremely to get there safely. And finally, after all that extreme concentration, I was sitll only at the airport and had yet to even board the plane for the two hour flight to San Francisco.

Not to worry. The flight was delayed. When I first saw the words, "flight delayed" on the screen, I felt the begining of that focus start to crumble. I wanted to cry. I couldn't wait an extra hour. I had to get there. Melissa was picking up Indian take out. She had a special bottle of wine all ready. I was supposed to be sitting in her cool, SF apartment by 6:00.

Eliana and her mom decided to go to the airport Starbucks. I loaded up on sugar and caffiene and pretended to nobe in an airport. Eliana ate crackers and flirted with strangers. We had two hours to kill. Until I checked the screen. The delay was now an hour and a half. I called Melissa. By the time we were off the phone the delay had moved to an hour and forty five. My heart sank. I brought Eliana to the bathroom to pee again (peeing with a child attached to your chest while you are trying to fit a stroller stuffed with gear into a small bathroom stall is not something you want to have to do repeatedly). I was trying to keep her on me with th hope that she would fall asleep. I paced the airport. Her eyes were rimmed with pink but still bright and eager. Everytime the stupid loudspeaker would announce some more bad news, I'd feel this little flash of rage because that was part of the over-stimulation that was keeping my girl awake.

They announced that the flight was now two hours late, so I folded. I went to the bathroom stall and let myself crumble and cried my own big girl tears. I was exhasted. Stressed. Hungry (but not settling for anything but that Indian meal waiting for me int he big city...).

I found a nice stretch of nasty airport carpet and took Eliana out of the ergo. She crawled around and stood up, balancing on the rows of plastic chairs. It was disgusting, but I was beyond caring. By this point she was totally over tired. Even her crawl was slower, sloppier than usual. We killed more time. I called my mom and complained. I fed Eliana more baby food. And finally it was time to board our plane. I was certain she would bonk in the air. She had slept but forty minutes. This is a girl who needs two long, crib naps a day. We would be those people. The poor new mama, all alone with the screaming baby, apologetically walking up and down the aisle of the plane, hushing frantically.

But we sat next to a nice woman. Eliana loved her. Eliana loved her books. She loved her dolly. She loved the cheesy crackers they gave us. She sat obediently on my lap and enjoye the ride. By the time I saw the Golden Gate bridge from the plane window, I let myself finally relax. She had done it. Once again she had surpassed my expectations and proved herself a truly remarkable, resilient little duckling.