My child (this is Mike) has learned to scream. Not the I'm-unhappy-and-think-you're-a-bad-parent scream. She's had that one down all along. No, this is the I'm-so-happy-I-can't-contain-it-and-will-therefore-scream-for-no-reason scream (Emily gets so excited sometimes about life she has to laugh...I guess it's genetic). It's actually pretty cute in the privacy of a home or in wide open spaces. It's not nearly so cute when sounded in the confines of an American Airlines flight from South Carolina to Texas. In that environment, her father breaks into hives as he worries about annoying other passengers. And he goes through a painful and retrospectively funny chain of events.
It all began when we boarded the plane. Bella was tired, and we actually got her to sleep during the take off. Emily told me at this point in no nonsense tones that I was not to move. Me being me, though, I decided that I should indeed move when I realized that my right arm was going numb just ten minutes into a three hour flight. So I shuffled Bella onto my chest. That worked for a while, but I was having to support her weight with my arms because airline chairs aren't exactly the best when it comes to reclining. Now, I don't consider myself a weak guy, so we're going to estimate that my arms got tired at the same point that any strong and strapping young man's arms would have done the same. So I shuffled her again. Her eyes popped open. I tried frantically to get her back to sleep, but it was too late. We were in for a long flight with an alert and happy baby who felt like screaming.
We played for a few minutes, but Bella was loud. It was at this point that I asked Emily to feed the child some Benadryl. Yes, drugging my child makes me a horrible father, but I figured that this would be the best course of action for us all. Bella could sleep, Emily and I could relax, and the rest of the passengers wouldn't even need to know we were there. So, as we fed Bella the second bottle after the flight began (we gave her the first during take off), we gave her some Benadryl that was then to be washed down by milk.
Bendaryl takes a while to take effect. Bella finished bottle number 2 and then proceeded to get loud again. So I did what any sensible father would do. I asked Emily for bottle number 3. I had a bad feeling as I did - a child's stomach can only hold so much - but I decided to gamble. If I could just get her to sleep, the tummy would digest everything fine, right? Everything seemed to be working as planned. Bella finished bottle 3, and I began to bounce her gently. Through all of this I had been praying fervently. In fact, I thought that God might be teaching me a lesson, as I had just told a friend that I sometimes struggle to understand fervent prayer. Maybe God was using my child to help me understand this area of the spiritual life. My spirit soared as I saw that the combination of my prayers, Benadryl, and extra milk were working. Bella's eyes were heavy and pink rimmed. She was about to drop off to dream land! Then, in an ever so cute gesture, she gently lifted her head and proceeded to throw up the entire contents of her too full stomach. Maybe God wasn't teaching me about prayer after all...maybe the real lesson came with understanding that one should never overfeed a baby, no matter how loud they are.
The vomit was not a one step process. No, Bella spit up three consecutive times. In the first, the milky white liquid rushed over her small body, soaking most of the front side of her onesy. In the second, yet more of the stuff sought every piece of cloth that had been left dry and then moved to my shirt and jeans. In the third, with nothing left to absorb it, the gastric-smelling liquid rolled over the already wet areas like the ocean at high tide and proceeded to leap off of Bella's body to cover cabin wall beside us. O yes...I got more soaked in the process.
I sat there stunned for a moment. Bella had spit up before (not much though...she doesn't really spit up much at all), but nothing like this. This smelled like full fledged vomit, and she and I were both covered with the stuff. Well, I might have to stay in my vomit soaked clothes (I didn't have a change on the plane...even if I did, I shudder to think of the harrowing process of a 6'4" man trying to change clothes in an airplane bathroom!), but Bella didn't have to stay in hers. Emily and I proceeded to strip her of her onesy and then wrapped her in a blanket and began to bounce again. This, of course, was after I used a baby wipe to wipe down the cabin wall that had so graciously received Bella's vomitous gift. There I sat, gently bouncing a diaper clad child. I may have been soaked and smelled like vomit, but I still had a child to keep quiet! (In the meantime, Emily sat there stunned at her little baby! "What to do?!")
As I bounced Bella, Emily blotted me with baby wipes to soak up some of the vomit. There was actually a lot of liquid on the seat between my legs that she was able to clean. Unfortunately, a good bit of that liquid had already soaked into my jeans. So, I finished the ENTIRE flight bouncing Bella and painfully aware that it would look like I had wet my pants when the plane finally landed and I got up to deboard. Emily took Bella (cute little Bella in her diaper) off the plane. And, not one or two but THREE people said, "Oh, I didn't know there was a baby on board. She did so good". ha! Then, Bella proceeded to play with everyone and smile and laugh to those on the plane.
When we finally landed, I was in no mood to take our connecting 50 minute flight to Austin. No - me, planes, and babies don't mix. We were going to rent a car, and I was going to stop somewhere so that I could by some new clothes to replace the vomit-smelling ones I was wearing. So Emily and I proceeded to take the shuttle to the rental car center. This insured that we would miss our flight, but it would be worth it. After the few hours that it would take to drive from Dallas to Temple, I would be in my own bed in clean clothes and relaxed. No more planes for Mike.
However, there were NO rental cars when we got to the rental car center. Apparently, DFW does a lot of business (who knew), and it's hard to get a one way car to Austin. I asked every counter. No one could help me. I called my dad for advice. He was stumped. Finally, things were looking up when dad called back to say that Orbitz was reporting an available van. I could look it up and then take my computer to the counter and argue that they help me. As I was discovering this, though, Emily took sleeping Bella (yes, she finally fell asleep) to the Hertz counter to ask for help. (It's 11pm by now) I had already been there, but wonder of wonders, the clerk decided to help her. He was a nicer guy than the person who helped me. More than that, though, I don't think that being a good looking woman who looked frustrated and frazzled who also happened to be holding a sweet sleeping baby hurt Emily's chances of getting help. So, we finally ended up in a Mazda 5, a very nice car, driving home, and we made it without further incident (at 1:30am). The next morning, I drove the rest of the way to Austin to pick up our luggage and the car we had left at the airport just a few days earlier. And, Bella woke up happy and laughing!
Here ends the saga of Planes, Prayers, and Projectile vomit.
