There and Back Again

About a week ago, I sat next to my sunscreened husband on a catamaran boat, our legs swinging over the side as we watched the sun set over the Caribbean Sea. The air was warm and breezy, the drinks refreshing, the sea clear and blue.

Hubs and I just spent 7--but really 9 because of travel times--days and nights away from our little Munch. It was our 12th anniversary on February 1, and it was a perfect way to spend it.

Not to sound ungrateful, (bear with me) but this is not a trip I asked for. In fact, when Hubs called me a year ago and said he'd won the trip in a drawing at work, I immediately began to cry.

Because I knew. I knew I would "have" to go. And I knew Munch would not be.


Winning a trip as a mother is not the same as winning a trip as a free-wheeling single lady (disclaimer: I have never been this person, but I imagine it's not the same). First thoughts were not of snorkeling and excursions and how many bathing suits to bring but OH MY GOD I CAN NEVER SPEND THAT MUCH TIME AWAY FROM MUNCH. I felt panicky and scared and sad.

There was a lot of motherly guilt thrown in at the beginning of trip planning: A mother "shouldn't" "abandon" her child to go off on a vacation. A mother "shouldn't" be able to spend 9 nights away while her son was in the capable hands of another. A mother "shouldn't" "want" to do these things.

And I always get a bit of a twinge when I hear statements from mothers like, "In 15 years, I've never spent a night away from my children." It's a bit of a badge of honor but also sacrifice. To not be in that club, well, frankly it makes me sometimes feel like I'm selfish or I must not care about my kid as much. I know these are false feelings, but they are the ones I hear whispering at night.

But. I've talked before about how I am desperately in love with my husband. We want to believe that this is a "given" and a "duh" in marriage, but I've seen enough marriages that prove this is not the case. But I do love Hubs, like love him, and it's always been extremely important to me for our children to witness this love. We love to be together. And while we love to parent together, this is different from "being" together. Relaxing together.

Hubs and I had not been on a Caribbean vacation where we didn't know another person since our honeymoon, 7 years ago.

Through good, hard work and a lot of support from my family (and, of course, my counselor), I put those "motherly guilt" statements aside. I worked to replace them with statements about how important it is for a husband and a wife to spend one-on-one time together, especially when both are working parents. How important it is for our son to see us enjoy spending time together. How important for our son to know he can spend time away from us, have a great time away from us in fact, and learn how that is okay and normal and good. How important for Munch to know that we can go away and come back.

And so we went. My biggest hurdles were the plane trips. I was terrified, despite all my logic-thinking. "Turbulence is normal." "Flying is a safe mode of travel." I was a mess both travel days, until wheels down in our final destination cities. My panic only heightened as we got closer to seeing Munch again--I wanted it so much, I was sure I wouldn't get to. But, of course, we did.

And it was wonderful seeing our Munch again. He was excited, we were excited. He had such fun at gramma and grampa's, and I thank my in-laws to high heaven for taking such amazing care of him--I never once worried about how he was doing, and that in itself is a blessing. We've had some transition bumps the past few days, like at night when he holds my hand and whispers over and over "Mommy, no go leave." Some meltdowns ("Mommy say no to me."). But, mostly all is back to normal. This is good for him to see, but also good for me to see.

I did it! I made it. It may seem strange to feel a sense of accomplishment after merely going on vacation, which I know we were truly blessed to do, but I do feel proud. Now, with a snowstorm bearing down, St. Lucia is a distant memory, almost as if it was a dream. Did I really lie on the beach for 7 straight hours a day? Did I wear my bathing suit and flip flops? Does the resort really exist?

They are memories Hubs and I will cherish, and we're committed to making vacations like these priorities in the coming years. And, similar to how I feel as a working mom, being away from and subsequently back with Munch has made me appreciate him all the more. The way he smiles and jumps 11 times in a row and plays with my hair and kisses our cats. I am thankful and grateful for the time away, and for coming back to my normal routine.

Hail to the Spaghetti

Last week, I shared this tweet: "And then my finicky 2yo ate a plate of spaghetti. In a RESTAURANT. #doublewhammy"

This is the story of that tweet.

The scene was a recipe for disaster. Hubs, Munch, and I were on vacation with Geema and Geepa at Massanutten Resort in the Shenandoah Valley, and we decided to venture into a restaurant instead of eating in, as is always easier with dearest Munch, who doesn't always sit down for meals (*understatement*).

The restaurant was a buffet, heralded in the resort literature for it's "popular pasta bar."

It also was located inside the big ol waterpark that we weren't taking Munch to because he wants to ride the tallest slide and swim in the deepest water and stand under the biggest bucket. It's just not the scene for him (or mommy) at this point in his life.

The buffet overlooked the entire park from pretty much anywhere you sat. Distraction was not an option.

We were disappointed to find that the food looked, in a word, disgusting. And this is coming from me, the girl who loves fast food and recently told her sister how she thinks with fondness and longing of the elementary school cafeteria pizza and chicken pattys. I'm not a high-brow food person, I love "trash" food, and this buffet was inedible.

So, as Munch squirmed to look out at the water park and said, "Kids!" and "Down there!" my mood quickly downgraded from hungry and hopeful that Munch would sit calmly to quite pissy and queasy. I wanted to leave, but Hubs said it was too late, we'd ordered drinks, we'd tried the watery mashed potatoes. We were committed.

As I walked back from another look at the buffet with Munch drooped sullenly in my arms, he spied food at another table and suddenly said, "Lolos" (translation: noodles). Someone was eating spaghetti. I said, "You want lolos?" and he nodded.

With no hope and nothing else to do, I took Munch to the "popular pasta bar," which consisted of two types of noodles, pale shrimp, and a few veggies, and ordered him up some spaghetti with red sauce. We watched as the "cook" made up the pasta on the hot plate, then I carried the large oval plate back to the table, figuring that I'd be the one eating the noodles.

Munch sat in his booster seat next to the window overlooking the water park and let me feed him a noodle. Seeing as how he's never eaten spaghetti for me, I held my breath, pretended this was no big deal, and fed him one noodle at a time. He looked at me and said, "Big one." As in LOAD THAT FORK, WOMAN. And soon he was shoveling the noodles into his own mouth!

He ate two-thirds of that plate, quietly watching as the big water bucket filled and dumped over and over. None of the rest of us ate much, but it was Munch's best meal of the trip, and for that, I thank the Blue Ridge Buffet.

This post was written in response to Mama Kat's writing prompt: 2.) Find a tweet you shared last week and elaborate.

We Left (and Returned) on a Jet Plane

We went to Disney World this month (hence the complete lack of posts in October!). The trip was terrific and much needed, but it was bookended by one of my least favorite things: a plane ride.

We thought long and hard about whether to fly to Orlando or drive. Under normal circumstances, it would probably take us about 14 hours one way to drive. That is not terrible to a family who regularly drives 8 hours for visits to my hometown and, until my MIL moved down near us, close to that to my husband's.

However, with an 18-month-old, that 14 hours would easily stretch to 18 and would need to be broken up across 2 days. We felt it was akin to torture to put this child in his carseat for so long. It also probably meant we would have to cut our actual vacation time short for travel days and that seemed silly as well.

So, as my family made the 24-hour trek from Michigan, through Kentucky and Tennessee and into the Deep South, we made for the airport and I told myself this was the most run-of-the-mill way to travel even as I knew my heart would pound at takeoff and every bump thereafter.

Flight History

I've not always been a terrible flyer. We were not a family of flyers. Our summer vacations consisted of drives to Cincinnati to King's Island amusement park or to Maryland to visit my aunt. My first flight was to Washington, DC, on a class trip when I was 16. The next month, I flew to, ironically, Disney World. I also flew to France for a class trip; San Diego, Montana, New Hampshire, and Philadelphia for college-related things; Bath, England, ALONE for a 6-week summer abroad experience; and Hawaii, among various other trips. Grand Cayman on our honeymoon, etc.

I think a few things changed over the years.

• I have a harder time giving up control. Control is a big issue for me. Over the past, I would say, 5 years, the idea of control has caused me immense anxiety. I try to control other people's feelings and emotions and experiences (I'm a people pleaser). I feel like if I control my surroundings, I can cheat death. With motherhood, the control-induced anxiety bubbled over. Pregnancy was difficult for me--talk about the ultimate lack of control. Motherhood is a lesson in being totally out of control (really) of the thing that is most precious to you. I can do everything I can to keep Munch safe and happy; but, in the end, so much is up to chance and to HIS OWN choices. A plane is also the ultimate giving up of control. At least in a car, I have the illusion of control. 
• I'm happy. I think my flying fears escalated after I met my husband. Suddenly, there was so much more to lose, so much more to miss out on. 
• 9/11. I have no personal connection to 9/11, but I think the idea of hijacking needled right into my brain. After 9/11, planes seem that much more vulnerable.
• Hubs and I had a bad landing experience returning from Chicago. Wind shears, and all that. It wasn't good.

I spoke with my counselor months before the vacation about the imminent plane ride and we talked some strategies. For me, when I feel myself getting wound up over something, it helps for me to "think as a mother." As a mother, I wanted Munch to have the best travel experience, and, compared to driving, that was a plane. It was quick, convenient, and relatively inexpensive.

And, I felt Munch would distract me on the plane. With a toddler to entertain, I would have much less time and attention to focus on every little bump.

And, if I panicked, Munch would feel that and also be scared (thinking as a mother again).

My counselor also recommended that I keep repeating, despite my compulsion to knock on wood after doing so, "This is a safe mode of transportation." Eventually, some part of my brain would believe it. 

Prepping for Takeoff

The thing Hubs and I worried most about was Munch's behavior in flight. This is a child who doesn't like to sit down on laps for any length of time. He likes to be held, but he likes for the holder to be standing and moving. Not an option on a plane. He also is too young to mind-numb him with a DVD player. It might distract him for a few moments, but it's not like we could pop in a movie and he'd be fine til we arrived. What about his ears? What about food? So many things to consider.

So, we gathered some new books and toys and put them aside for him to see for the first time on the plane. We packed empty bottles and filled them with milk purchased after security. We packed Goldfish. And, we prepared for 2.5 hours of screaming. We would try to sit surrounded by other families (this was a flight to Orlando, after all). It would be over comparatively quickly.

In Flight

My child slept from takeoff to wheels down both flights (well, first flight he woke up 20 minutes out). As soon as the engine revved up for takeoff, his eyes fluttered closed and he collapsed against me. The effect of intense white noise? Did Southwest release some gaseous sedative? I couldn't tell you. 

For the first flight, Munch was curled against my chest and I rubbed his head and sang to him as we took off and got going. I was afraid. I must say a clandestine tear was shed, as I buried my face in his hair. But, a strange thing happened. As I sang, I pictured myself in Munch's nursery, when I held him like this and sang/swayed him to sleep. It calmed me. Picturing myself in that dim room, the quiet night around us, safely on the ground, eased my fear. Apparently, Munch's nursery is my happy place.

I sat in the window seat, another thing I've avoided for years. But, when Munch woke up that first flight, all he wanted to do was look out at the ground. And I looked with him. He pointed at round bodies of water and tall buildings and I named everything for him. Seeing the tiny world through his new eyes helped me to see the wonder of it all as well.

The second flight, we were all exhausted. We'd been up at 3:45am to get transported for a 7:45am flight. Munch fell immediately to sleep, sprawled on his back across Hubs and my legs, and didn't wake up until we WOKE him up after we were landed and at the gate. And, the interesting thing is, I wasn't nearly as scared on this flight. I read my book. I dozed. I looked out the window when the pilot said you could see DC. I enjoyed looking at the tiny cars, the wooded landscape. Twice I grabbed Hubs' arm for reassurance at a bump. But my heart didn't pound and I didn't cry.

Conclusions

• Munch makes me stronger. I'm learning this over and over. Munch helps me as much as I help him. Being his mother makes me a braver person.
• Though I had my first flight at 16 (and Hubs had his at 19), Munch first flew the friendly skies at 18.5 months. That is a gift to him.
• I want Munch to see flying as an adventure, not something that induces terror. In order for him to see that, I have to model that.
• The thing you worry about most often turns out to be the thing that is easiest. 

Labor Day Away

I realize I'm doing my weekend wrapup on Thursday, but if I don't do it, this will be second missed week in a row and that's not acceptable! This is also my first post of September!

I came back to work after the long weekend with a lot on my plate and also in the midst of an emotional time that caused me not to be able to focus, so here it is a few days after the weekend, which was largely great.

The Highlight:

• The first "vacation" Hubs, Munch, and I have taken just the three of us. It wasn't anything elaborate or long, but it was wonderful! We went to a Hampton Inn in Front Royal, VA, just about 1.5 hours from home and at the entrance to the Shenandoah National Park.
  
  Basically, our one requirement was a pool for Munch. He went swimming three times, each for about 20 minutes before he started shivering and turning blue--literally blue-lipped. We took him straight to a warm bath afterwards. There were some other kids in the pool, and he watched them and splashed when they splashed. He "swam" in my arms and "jumped" off the side of the pool.
  
  (Having grown up a bigger kid with quite a bit of padding, this quick-chill for my skinny baby is foreign to me! He loves to swim and he cried so hard when we had to leave. But it's not like he'll sit wrapped in a towel until he warms up. This makes me wonder what he'll be like in Disney.)
  
  It was a relaxing weekend during which Munch slept fantastically--on Friday from 11pm to 7am in the crib and then in the king-size bed until 9am, then from 7:15pm for nearly 12 hours on Saturday. He enjoyed eating breakfast down in the common area, which served hot breakfast for FREE every morning. We timed our drive of Skyline Drive through the national park during Munch's nap, and that worked out pretty well.
  
  Front Royal is not nearly as pretty as it sounds, in fact, it was rather hole-ish, rather than being a beautiful, quaint small town. The hotel shared a McDonald's parking lot, and I indulged in two filets-o-fish, and man, were they insanely good.

The Good:

• Having 3 days with Munch!
• Getting home on Sunday so we had Monday to relax.
• Seeing Tony and Myrna for dinner on Sunday.
• Munch's crying evolved to something so cute and heart-wrenching at the same time. Instead of just crying--for instance when he is put down and doesn't want to be, when he feels thwarted in anything, for any real reason--he started wailing, "Mama, MAMA, mama." Over and over.

The What???

• Hubs getting a massive sinus infection (probably from Munch) on Friday night, causing him to be ill most of the weekend.
• Having to give Munch his antibiotic, which resulted in a horrible screaming fit twice a day.
• HORMONES.
• Munch biting my wrist so that I think he burst a capillary or something, causing a huge bruise to form on the ball of my thumb, and a resulting hypochondriacial reaction about blood clots.

A Weekend Away

We had a family-visit weekend to the Hub’s grandparents’ in Erie, PA, with MIL.

The Highlight:

·         Munch swimming in Lake Erie. He loved it. He wasn’t scared at all. He walked along the shoreline and sat and let the waves pummel him. Then, he wanted to be held in the water as he “swam.” When he got cold, Hubs and I took him to the blanket to dry off and he played with the beach bucket and shovel his uncle gave him and ate Goldfish.

The Good:

·         Having so much time with Munch and Hubbaland. We left in the afternoon on Friday and returned on Monday. I love being with Munch for so many straight days!

·         The Munch walking around so much. He seemed to gain confidence with each hour. He pushed his farm walker all over the house (sometimes to the detriment of the ancient Italian Greyhound Lizzy). He also walked with his nose up in the air on Saturday morning. It was as if to say, “I can’t be bothered with looking at you, and please don’t look at me either.”

·         Hiding behind the chair in the living room and having Munch walk to find me. And as Munch walked, Hubbaland crept behind him. When Munch realized, he screamed and laughed. Then, Munch turned and charged Hubs. Repeat. It was precious.

·         Dinner out with Uncle N at Cheddar’s. It was good food ("grown up grilled cheese) at a good price. Munch was fascinated by a massive ceiling fan and a beautiful aquarium. He also stood on the booth and screamed in delight (and to my delight, if not to the delight of other diners).

·         Saturday afternoon playing with cousin A, a little 1-year-old cherub of a girl. Munch didn’t quite know what to think of her. When she pushed his walker, he cried and took it from her. I think he is used to holding his own at day care. They shared Goldfish. She tried to kiss him, but Munch didn’t quite get the concept.

·         Watching Munch topple empty yogurt cups as MIL and Gma set them up over and over.

·         4th-meal 5 Guys on Saturday night.

·         Giving Munchkin time with extended family is good for him, and for them.

The What???

·         The heat. And not just outside. Poor Munch sweated so much when he was trying to go to sleep each night and nap.

·         Families are complicated and drama may ensue.

·         Twin beds.

·         Munch didn’t sleep terribly well on Friday night; he got better as he got used to his new surroundings, but it still was rough going.

·         Munch was a champ on the 6-hour drive there and back, but he gets so bored. He just wants to play, and I fear this will worsen as he gets older. He slept about halfway home, then he was okay to be entertained for a bit. Then, there was no helping him. It was like he felt he couldn’t get his message across either. He would tip his head back, make his eyes very wide, and make his pleading little sounds. Like, if I just make myself earnest enough, she’ll get me out of this blasted seat.

Erie Peninsula, via http://wherervnow.us/presque-isle-state-park-erie-pa/78/