I’ve lots to write but little time. Life is a bit of a blur at the moment. One needs time to make icecream and other savoury snacks to fulfill the pregnant urges (more on that another day). Oh yeah, and work fits in there somewhere too.
A snippet from last week.
The plane trip from hell….
We took a trip to Melbourne for an extra-long weekend. It was awesome overall, which I’ll get to in another post. But today, a bit about the flight, sausages, prunes and playdoh…
After a long and involved train trip to the airport hauling not too much luggage but still not the easiest with a little person in tow (we didn’t want to take a carseat and I don’t like risking taxi-rides with dodgy drivers without you in a proper restraint), we got to the airport to find our flight delayed by 2 hours. Yay.
Thankfully I’d prepared a good travelling bag for you – complete with games, stickers, pens, books, drawing paper, dinosaurs, food, drink, iPod with some short kid’s TV episodes on it… Which meant the wait wasn’t too bad. It was just long. You filled yourself full of (yes I’m definitely pregnant and non-meat-eating) very smelly german sausage, prunes and peanut butter sandwiches. Perhaps not quite the balanced diet of normal, but it kept you happy.
When it was time to get on the plane, you happily got on, waited until we had strapped you into your kid’s airplane seatbelt, then immediately demanded ‘playo’.
I guess you remembered our recent trip to Canada pretty well.
We got going, and all was fine until about 30 minutes out of Melbourne we hit some stormy turbulent clouds. And I started to feel sick. Like really sick. And you started to whinge. Stroking your head you seemed to calm slightly, but you weren’t a happy camper. And frankly, neither was I. Which is unusual, I’ve never had problems on planes before, regardless of the turbulence…
Anyway, we landed, I breathed a sigh of relief. I moved seats to the middle of our set of three from the window and let you take the window seat when we pulled up at the gate. You were busy chatting to me about the men outside and the bags, when you suddenly looked back at me with a look of despair and shock, and did a big hiccup… And thankfully I saw it coming, picked you up, faced you to the window and held you aloft. While you violently rid yourself of all of the tasty snacks you’d so eagerly consumed before our flight….
Thankfully all over the seat and window of the plane, rather than on me or you. And believe me, it smelt worse the second time. I will NEVER eat german sausages again, even if I renounce my non-meat ways at some point in the future.
At this point the rest of the people on the plane were standing in the aisle or still sitting, waiting for them to open the doors. I looked at your dad, and you know, all I could do was laugh.
And then apologized to the stewardess near us.
I would have taken a photo it was so funny and gross, but I was busy holding you up and away from the mess and trying to stop myself from gagging.
Meanwhile, the people near us know what is going on, as you are now yelling,
“Vomit, yuck! Vomit! All gone. Vomit, yuck. Vomit. Sausage. Vomit!”. At the top of your voice. And I thought proudly,
“New word: Vomit. Cool. He takes after me. I’m known for my violent hurling from way back. My friends will like this. I have raised a son in my own likeness.”
Only in Australia
And then the funniest part. We’d lost some playdoh mid-flight as some rolled underneath your chair and back through the plane. A man two rows back says,
“Excuse me, is this your playdoh?” as he holds a piece of the bright blue playdoh aloft. We claim it. The person next to him then asks out loud,
“I wonder if he was eating the playdoh and that made him sick?”.
At which point a man directly behind us stands up, peers into the huge pile of sick congealing in the centre of the leather chair you’d recently vacated, inspects it closely, sits back down and then comments,
“Nope, no playdoh. Definitely wasn’t eating the playdoh.”
Which just made me laugh even more.
P.S. I win bad parent of the day award for not even attempting to clean it up. I figured I’d just end up smearing it everywhere worse than it was, including on me and you. So I just smiled, exited the plane and apologised to the crew as you went on shouting “Vomit, vomit, all gone” as you walked up the aisle ahead of me.