Twelve Days of CA vacation

Vacation was invented so that working folk don't one day go into their bosses office and tell them how they feel about management styles. Sadly, plane flight was not invented to move people more expediently from place to place but to punish individuals for overpopulating the planet with their children.

The first day of vacation started like all great days of vacation start...at work, trying to put in some extra hours to cling to a few more vacation hours in the future that will allow you to make it one more week without going entirely nuts. I don't remember exactly I was doing at work on the first day of vacation, but I'm fairly certain that it was some amazing stuff. After that I rushed home to pack because I hadn't packed yet for the week, or maybe I had, it's hard to remember with s screaming and teething in the background. It's amazing how much of your mental energy is taken up by the screaming of a child.

Anyhoos, we dashed off to the airport by 4:30 or so, briefly sat in traffic due to an accident though we sort of assumed it was just awful and typical DC area traffic.

M: We're going to miss our flight.

S: We're not going to miss out flight.

M: I guess we can just walk to San Francisco

S: We're fine.

M: Maybe you are, but I'm worried that I'd pass out around Missouri.

S: Stop being dramatic.

M: You'd be dramatic too if you had to walk to San Francisco.

Eventually the traffic broke up, and we hurried into the wonderful long term parking provided by the friendly folks at the BWI airport. (It's like a howling, this noise. S is feeding her a bottle, but every time the shrimp stops drinking she starts going on as if she's a werewolf). As we walked quickly towards the bus S raised her hand and tried to stop the driver who drove on blissfully.

S: I guess having a baby doesn't help.

M: I guess not.

S: Why are bus drivers so mean?

M: I don't know. I think they get paid good money. Maybe it's that they get to rich that they're stuck up.

S: Unlikely.

By the time we had done the security thing, which involved me being centrifuged or whatever, followed by a light pat down. Don't worry, I tipped, we made our way to our flight, which we learned had been delayed by half an hour. Luckily it was already past s's bedtime. Unfortunately, all the glitz and glamour of the airport made it hard for her to sleep. I think it was like Hollywood for her or something with all the bright lights and people walking around. She mainly smacked the seats in front of her or squirmed around.

S tried to get her to nurse for a while, which turned into a full scale crying fit. (And she's now been going for roughly 2.5 hours. I'm proposing more Tylenol but have been refused by the attending).

M: Maybe we should take the aisle on the flight, so she can walk around.

S: I think privacy for feeding is best.

M: Really?

S: Yes.

This after doing the whole feeding thing in the waiting area with 300 other folks sitting around in postures of annoyance. We were then told that our flight was being delayed for 2.5 hours, and that we'd be leaving at 10:50 and arriving in San Francisco just in time to celebrate New Year's with Dick Clark. Lil s was well past her bed time and eventually she slept for a half an hour or so, only 11 hours short of her usual repast.

We take our seats and give the aisle to a woman who looks thirtyish, and who doesn't make any faces when she sees we have a baby. She should of. At take off S gives lil s her small blanket and pacifier and the little one drifts off to sleep. We can do this.

11:30 Just as we're settling in to the flight the little one wakes up, and S immediately engages her in some sort of obscure wrestling match designed to irritate her, though I was later told that she was trying to feed her. I think S took the fist couple of rounds, but lil s is a fighter and got in her fair share of kicks as well. Meanwhile, the passenger next to us is turning up the volume on her speakers and listening to some rap.

By midnight s had calmed down and started to sleep. S was sleeping as well the two of them curled up, just so, while we sailed on the backs of clouds through the deepening shadows of night. (We're now in the process of Ferberizing the child. Literally, right now. The crying has dipped to a low whimper. And, the beginning of the whimper lead me to let out a bit of a laugh. Apparently rampant crying is a bit stressful. Also, a feeling of guilt is creeping in that we're teaching our baby that we won't always be there to soothe and fix things for her, that she'll have to do it herself. It is a painful thing, being a parent. As if we haven't had enough tears now S is crying over s crying. I'm currently looking for something to gouge out my ears with Shakespearean tragedy style).