The flight was delayed by 45 minutes or so sitting on the tarmac. We made the mistake of keeping him in the car seat rather than walking around, but they kept saying it would only be a few more minutes. Those 45 minutes perhaps made all the difference. In the last hour or so of the ride, Baby Z started his own descent into a meltdown of exhaustion. Such a meltdown at home calls for an immediate evacuation to his bed. Instead, Baby Z got to squirm and writhe in our laps until the crying reached that hoarse, shrill cry that even a stranger knows is bad news. Thankfully, the passengers seated around us were very sympathetic. Although, honestly, I could have cared less because I was so consumed with the sorry state of my child. I could tell how very tired he was and wanted so badly to help him. He finally pushed his way back to a laying down position turned his head into my stomach and was asleep. John and I didn't move a muscle and Baby Z slept for 30 minutes or so.
At that point in the trip I was projecting three more airplane rides of such torment. Baby Z proved us wrong, thankfully, and did really well for the next leg. By this point, it was well past his bedtime but he entertained himself with the shades on the windows and the lights above our heads. Finally, we got to our motel (note the "m") and hurried to set up the pack-n-play to put Baby Z to bed. Baby Z was extremely distraught that we would put him in such a thing in such a place. He screamed the minute we put him in. Thinking of the poor neighbors around us trying to sleep at 1am, I did whatever I could to help Baby Z sleep. The rest of the night I alternated between laying awake next to Baby Z on the big bed, trying to transfer him to the crib, catching an hour of sleep and then having to comfort Baby Z again. All night I kept thinking, well, at least we'll be in our own beds tomorrow night (note: foreshadowing that things might not go the way the writer expected).
After a very busy day with the funeral, family, and killing time at a local mall, we were ready to get on another plane to head home. It turns out that a gigantic storm shut down Dallas and over 800 flights were cancelled. We were in the airport for a couple of hours figuring out what to do. The entire stressful time, thankfully, Baby Z conked out in his stroller:
We all got to stay another night in Texas. It was really a blessing in disguise, I think, because we were all so tired that even a few hours sleep in another motel seemed worth it before braving another plane flight. The next morning, really early, we got on the plane and Baby Z went to sleep almost right away. John and I cramped and contorted ourselves keeping him comfortable across our laps and he slept for about 2 hours. The entire time I thanked God and wished I hadn't had that cup of orange juice. We finally had to get up and go to the bathroom, but Baby Z had enough sleep to keep him content and we only had an hour and a half more to go.
The next plane ride went fine, too, and we got back to southern California safe and sound. We are SOOO thankful to be home. I learned a lot about what worked and what didn't for traveling with the little dude. And it's true what they say about traveling being an opportunity to grow as a family. I am thankful for our family (Aunt E and Uncle R in particular) who all chipped in with Baby Z. And I'm extremely thankful for my husband who through it all keeps his ability to have fun:
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