Denver: Phase One

Remember that last post, oh so long ago, when I rambled at length about the ease of traveling via airplane with a preschooler as opposed to an infant or toddler? I know. It's been a long time since I've posted. You might want to revisit the last entry, so you can get plenty of mileage out of hysterically laughing at me while you read about our adventure to Denver.

So. Wednesday was our big travel day, and I had spent weeks talking it up with Zoey. I've noticed that, lately, anything that deviates from routine needs to be posted in bulletin format and discussed ad nauseum weeks and weeks and weeks in advance, to create the least amount of preschool meltdown possible when we do anything other than go to daycare and come home. Either this is a miserable phase she is entering or she truly is my child. But I digress. Zoey was dismayed to realize that we would not, in fact, be flying home from Denver the same day we flew out so she could sleep in her own bed. Learning that Daddy wouldn't be traveling with us was even more disheartening, no matter how hard I tried to make this sound like 'a super fun girl's trip!' Oh, and she also came down with an ear infection two days before leaving, making me incredibly grateful to have taken her in to the pediatrician BEFORE leaving, instead of discovering the horrible ear infection at 30,000 feet and making 'stop at nearest urgent care' first on our Denver to-do list.

We made it to SeaTac airport on time, thankfully, and due to my chronic case of overpacking and preparing for every possible deviation to The Plan, stuffed to the gills with carry-on items. Stroller, backpack, purse, it was all stuffed. You laugh now. Just wait.

First sign this was not going to smoothly: forgetting to declare the plastic bag of liquid ibuprofen, antibiotics, ear drops, etc. TSA agents love it when you do that. It's a one way ticket to getting your whole intricately-stuffed backpack torn apart. Fun times.

Second sign: my child's liquid intake-to-output ratio was off. WAY off. Despite being potty trained for nearly a year, I knew this couldn't be good...and after asking her several times before boarding 'do you need to go potty?' and being met with a resounding NO! I had this feeling we might be needing some of the (many pairs) of extra clothes packed away in my newly reorganized backpack.

Third sign: the flight to Denver was completely packed. And I was That Parent practically hog-tying her child before boarding, stuffing drops down her ears and assuring her THIS WILL MAKE YOUR EARS STOP HURTING NOW HOLD STILL. You could literally FEEL the other passengers in line, waiting to board, collectively praying they wouldn't be sitting next to us for the next two and a half hours.

I waited to be nearly last on board, passing up the airline's offer to take families traveling with small children first. I figured, how fast is cramming 300 people on a looking-smaller-and-smaller aircraft really going to be? Not fast. Best to be one of the last on board to avoid preschool squirming and whining. Plus, I wanted everyone to get a good long look at what they were in for en route to Denver. That's right. Hop in line. Sit next to the kid with ear drops. IT'LL BE FUN.

We took our seats next to a perfectly pleasant and incredibly unlucky middle-aged gentleman and prepared for take off. Zoey sat next to the window and, surprisingly, this held her interest throughout the remainder of the cram-in-like-sardines process, the taxi trip down the runway, and take-off. She seemed to be holding such rapt attention to the clouds and the disappearing landscape that I hardly noticed she had dropped off to sleep.

Sweet.

Now, the aforementioned backpack had been stuffed in the overhead bin by our perfectly pleasant (and polite) seatmate, with only some books, my purse, and Zoey's blanket and pillow stuffed under our seats. I got Zoey settled in for her nap and settled (smugly, I'll admit) in with my book for, oh, 25 minutes or so until I reached over to pat my child's back and felt something wet.

WET.

F**k.

So there I was, needing to formulate a plan of attack that would involve a wardrobe change, an airplane bathroom, and a backpack stuffed away in Overhead Compartment Land. Not to mention somehow cleaning the pee-soaked seat my child was now sleeping in. Thank God for faux leather, am I right?

I probably sat there for two or three minutes, panicking, breaking in to a cold sweat (remember? that cold sweat I hadn't broken in to while considering traveling solo with a three year old?). Then Zoey woke up, disoriented and crying, and it was go time.

A quick hustle to the shoebox-sized bathroom and a quick strip-down later, I was suddenly left considering my naked child, shivering and crying on the (closed) little toilet, wondering what to do next. Make her take the walk of shame, naked, down the aisle? No. Leave her here to shiver while I darted for the backpack? Where was the backpack? Again, F**K. It was time to enlist the help of Margaret, the kindly airline attendant with the soothing Australian accent. She offered to sit just outside the tiny bathroom while I dashed back down the aisle in search of clean clothes. Perfectly Pleasant Seatmate (who was probably cursing his miserable luck at this point) helped me locate my bag and, after a considerable amount of digging, new clothes were found and, despite Zoey's protests of I DON'T WANT TO WEAR JEANS! she was able to march back down the aisle with her dignity fully intact. Because she totally cares about things like that.

It was a long flight. Like, LONG. Possibly the longest two and a half hours of my life. Zoey quickly tired of her books and hand-held game, and proceeded to pass the time by loudly reminding me that she was tired of flying. By the time we landed and she was safely back in her stroller, zipping down the terminal to baggage claim, she looked greasy (ear drops having migrated from ear to hair) and somewhat disheveled (cute traveling outfit having been peed on). We were quite the pair.

Colorado is beatiful. My sister Abby is wonderful. I am thrilled to be here and, today, the weather finally seems to be cooperating with us. It is nearly time for a walk to the park. But before I go, let's recap what we've learned so far:

1. Preschoolers to not understand, nor appreciate, the concept of a 'Let's Escape Reality!' vacation. Escape reality without them.

2. When packing extra clothes in that blessed carry-on, pack something that matches. And, clearly, DO NOT PACK JEANS.

3. Do not be lulled in to a false sense of security when traveling with your newly-minted potty-trained child. Remember diapers? Those were cool. Wiping down an airline seat with wet paper towels? Not cool.