boob over my hammy

April 5, 2007

in anticipation of our flight to miami (babies' first plane ride), i bought a box of 200 earplugs at the suggestion of my friend haley. i figured that, if the shit hit the fan and the babies lost it on the plane, i could at least offer earplugs to my fellow passengers in order to avoid their scorn. for good measure, and at the suggestion of our pediatrician, i also dosed them with a little benadryl moments before take-off in the hopes that it would knock them out for the duration of the flight.

except for a few tummy-clenching moments of isa crying as we were landing in miami, i have to say that the flight there was virtually painless. my sister sat across the aisle from me and expertly rocked, patted, and shushed her lap baby from take-off to landing. as the babies yawned and stretched and slowly awoke on our way to baggage claim, christie and i exchanged a triumphant high five and exhaled for the first time in hours. only five minutes of crying in over five hours of airplane travel....not bad at all.

the way back, however, was a totally different story. this time, my dad was my travel companion. as we settled into our seats and prepared for take-off, the babies seemed to be slipping into benadryl's dreamy embrace. i even took out my US weekly and began flipping through the gossip columns as the other passengers settled around us. somewhere between take-off and the beverage service, isa decided that it was a good time to make a massive and incredibly stinky poo. as she wriggled in my lap, grunting with the effort, loud and stinky baby farts filled the air around us. with every noisy blast, my dad and i laughed harder and harder. finally, certain that she'd finished with her business, i asked a flight attendant where i might find a changing table. "unfortunately," she said, "this airplane is an older model. there is no changing table. you'd really be better off changing her in your seat". you've got to be fucking kidding me, i (and the woman eating in the seat next to me) thought. just as i was debating whether it was better to change her diaper or let her ass rot for the duration of the flight, manu starts pitching a fit on my dad's lap across the aisle. i hand my dad a baby bottle filled with water, in the hopes that this will keep him entertained long enough for me to figure out what to do with isa, but this only makes him fussier. shit. ok. let's switch. i'll nurse manu, and my dad can hold isa for a minute and then i'll deal with her turd situation.

so we do the hand off, and as manu settles onto my breast, isa starts howling as my dad fumbles to hold her comfortably. oh, jesus christ. "dad, she doesn't like to be lying down. you have to hold her up. but snuggle her, and pat her.... maybe bounce her a little." but it's been a while since he held babies and his clumsiness is only making her scream louder so, after some shifting on my part, i ask him to hand her over. at this point, i'm trying to discretely tandem nurse two fussy babies in an AIRPLANE seat! "i'm really sorry," i say to everyone giving me stink eye, "i have earplugs. please take some, they're right in here." no one takes them, but they keep glaring at me as i shush and wriggle in my seat and try to keep both babies on a boob despite their flailing about in protest. it's from HELL. people are really starting to get annoyed. i'm embarrassed and frustrated and doing the best i can. my dad keeps smoothing the spot on his head where there once was hair, and nervously chuckling to himself. this goes on for AT LEAST twenty minutes.

finally, after what seems like hours of screaming, they start to settle down and i've got them both nursing quietly. passengers around me are just starting to shake their shoulders down and loosen into their seats. i close my eyes and pucker my throbbing lips which are white and achy from being tightly pressed together for so long. i start to think again about the steaming stench emanating from isa's diaper and wonder what the hell i am going to do about it. and then my dad reaches across me for his coke, which i placed on the tray table next to me, worried that he would spill it during the baby swap fiasco. as he leans over us to grab his drink, the baby bottle that he'd put in his front shirt pocket falls to the ground. anxiously, he looks at me to see if i notice and i shoot him a "good job, dad!" look. as he bends over to pick up the bottle, he spills HIS ENTIRE CUP OF ICE COLD COCA COLA onto manu's nursing head!!! the kid sputters as the soda fills his ears, his eyes, his nose....and then lets out a blood-curdling scream which sends his sister into a tantrum. i look at my father in disbelief, but i see from the look on his face that he is mortified and paralyzed with shame. people around us are shifting around in their seats and looking at us in horror as the airplane is filled, once again, with the sound of wailing, pissed off babies.

a woman from the back of the plane comes up to me, as i sit there trying to console my screaming children, one of whom is COVERED in sticky cola, and says, "m'am. please let me help you. i have four kids." "no thanks," i stammer and awkwardly get up from my seat and march toward the back of the plane, shushing and bouncing avoiding the gawking stares of the passengers along the way. once i reach the back of the plane, the flight attendant squeezes my arm and then gently pulls down my shirt to cover my exposed breast.

awesome. not only did i walk down the entire length of the plane with two screaming babies. i walked down the entire length of the plane with a screaming baby, a boob, and a screaming baby (covered in coke). this is awesome.

long story short, i stayed in the back of the plane until they were both asleep. and then i walked back to my seat, squeezed into place, and did not move a muscle until we landed in austin 3 hours later. there's one for the baby book.