I have definitely noticed how radically my everyday life has changed in the last two and a half years, but by now I’m pretty much used to the “new normal.” However, once I get outside of my comfort zone of home/park/Baba Noba/Targy, which is extremely rare, I notice the change as starkly as the red line on a pregnancy test. (Translation: For those of you who are not fluent in Sammacky lingo, “Baba Noba” is B & N, and “Targy” is Target.)
Taking a three and a half hour flight with Sam the other day was one of those bright line tests. I used to love to fly; I’ve always been such a travel fiend that even driving by an airport got me excited. Now it is the subject for a nightmare. Just thinking about it makes me start sweating. By the time we got through security which was like traversing the Amazon in stilettos but not as fun, I was already hot and bothered (in an angry, indignant kind of way.) However, in the interests of my blood pressure and general merriness level, I will spare us all of painfully rehashing the inane details.
I used to savor the time on flights to write cards, browse through magazines that had piled up, and lose myself in a really good book, sometimes finishing one and starting another. This time I knew better. I didn’t even bother to put my copy of “Eat, Pray, Love” in my carry-on, even though I was was dying to dive into it on p.87 where I’d left off. After all, I was right at the part where she describes all of the carb-o-licious food that she was devouring in Rome. The book is so addictive, but I knew too well that the only time I would pick it up would be to wipe apple juice off the cover.
Instead, my backpack contained a pile of “Tommy” books (Tommy is Thomas the Tank Engine for those who are not on a first name basis), ten Tommy trains, two leaky sippy cups, and a partridge in a pear tree. (Just checking to see if you are really reading this. It was really a mushed up banana.)
Well, right after we got on, he started asking for the Baby and rubbing his eyes. JACKPOT! That meant he was going to go to sleep! Shoot! Maybe I should have packed that freakin’ book after all and not been such a pessimist. Was I going to be forced to read and re-read the Sky Mall catalog for the next three hours? No such luck. I was not fortunate enough to have that problem.
Plot twist. Sam spent the entire flight awake and miserable, unable to fall sleep. Oh my. Of course the toddler across the aisle slept like a rock, despite Sam’s moaning. However, later in the flight his mother confessed that she had given him half of a Children’s Dramamine tablet half and hour before the flight. Hmmn… (Note to self: Google Children’s Dramamine before return flight. Also ask pediatrician about the use of taser guns on children over age two.) Anyway, it was one of the longest three hour segments of my life. Instead of being relaxed and rejuvenated when we arrived, I was strung out, sweaty, and so tired my eyes hurt. All I needed was a few shots, and I was ready to for bed. Too bad it was 10:30 AM local time.
LibbY
I feel your pain, sister! We’re driving up to DC and I already am having a panic attack.