You know that phrase, “Life’s a journey, not a destination.” They weren’t talking about traveling with kids… right? Because when you are flying with your children, seems to me it’s all about the destination.
Before we leave for the airport, I tell 3 1/2 year-old Dylan that she has to TRY to go potty.
Dylan: Nooooooo. (sobbing) Nooooo. (More howling) I don’t want to try.
She finally, begrudgingly, sits down on the toilet. But nothing.
In the airport, before we board the plane, I tell Dylan she has to TRY to go potty again.
Dylan: Nooooooo. (Very dramatic sobbing that tips off the other travelers that I must be a super cruel mummy.) I don’t have to goooooooo.
Dylan finally caves (after threats of no DVDs on the plane as if I would carry through on that!) and comes to the ladies’ room with me. She sits ever-so-quickly on the toilet. Nothing.
We are on the plane.
We are in the air.
She is peeing.
On the seat.
Dylan: Oh no! Mommy, I’m having an accident. I’m having an ACCIDENT!
Not a few drops but streams of pee are soaking her tights, her dress (she is a fancy flier), the seat and the seatbelt.
God, if only, “I told you so” was an appropriate parenting technique.
At least I have a dry pair of pants and a sweater for her to wear. And the next person who sits in that seat will never be able to track me down. I made sure that we didn’t leave a scrap of paper that could possibly connect us to that drenched seatbelt.
Finally, we are in warm, sunny, heavenly Boca Raton, Florida.
That night, my in-laws graciously babysit and we head to Trattoria Romana, an Italian restaurant where a huge group of older Floridians are outside waiting for the valet.
And I’m thinking, “God, I love this town. I have never felt so young. Boca is like a shot of Botox without the money or the injections. You just feel so fresh and vibrant here.”
Inside the restaurant, there are lots of “young” folks like myself. The food is delish and Rick’s cousin Wendi (the original Obama mama) makes her Barack pitch to a most likely Hillary-loving 4 top next to us.
In addition to a lot of spunk and a rock star aura, Miss Wendi has got major angst over this Super Tuesday. She and her boss Congressman Robert Wexler (D-Fl) boarded the Obama presidential party train early on and both hope they’re backing the winner.
We get home around midnight and that’s when 14 month-old Summer starts crying. Not sure why. She doesn’t mention anything specific but she does seem to have some aversion to her pack n’ play.
Then, of course, Dylan wakes up because of all the shrieking.
A rapid 2 1/2 hours later, I’m defeated. Rick’s defeated. We sleep awkwardly and uncomfortably with two little monkeys hogging all the room in our bed.
Summer catches up on her baby beauty sleep poolside the next day.
And both girls have a fab case of Boca fever.
mama bird notes
Don’t forget to enter our mama bird giveaway. One lucky birdie will win the following….
Burberrry “The Beat” Eau De Parfum.
The SwaddleKeeper blanket with newborn head support. A wonderful way to calm fussy newborns. The giveaway item comes in an organic cotton paisley print.
This is for all you Deadheads. This children’s book, “Monkey and the Engineer” is based on the lyrics of the popular Grateful Dead song (lyrics + story by Jesse Fuller).
Teething Bling by Smart Mom. A cute teething toy that you wear around your neck, plus a matching bangle.
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