Monday, October 18, 2010

Las Vegas and My Baby

Dear Lyla girl,

Now that we are home and I have my life back to normal, I wanted to write you a letter.  I do realize that taking you away on a plane ride to another time zone to the adult Disney world - Las Vegas - is not really the best thing for a baby.  Uprooting you from your familiarity, your routine, and your daddy was not very nice of me, but frankly the demon child you turned into whilst on our trip I think was a bit harsh.

It all started with the first plane ride when you decided it was cool to show off your new toy, your scream.  It was cute at first but then when other passengers decided they wanted to sleep, I don't think it was very cute any more.  And don't take any of those mean passengers seriously when they were rude to me and you for just being you.  They are the ones who missed out by not wanting to sit next to you.

You were a good baby for the first couple days; laughing and playing as usual.  It was as if you knew mommy had to work and that grandpa was here to keep you company while I did.  It all went down hill when, in the large ballroom in which my event was taking place was being set up, you decided it would be a good time/place to blow out your entire outfit.  Undergoing surgery to remove your completely pooped-on outfit, emptying the entire wipes carton, running back and forth to the bathroom for more towels, and making sure no poop spilled on the table, was less than fun for sure.  I do realize that you are not potty trained but next time, let's try to keep it in your pants or at least just give me some type of warning that it is all over your pants; a simple yell in my direction would do.

However, it only got worse.  Again, I realize you're not in your element but honestly, you picked the worse time to get sick.  For the first time since you've been born, you decided that Vegas was the optimal place for high fevers, intense crying, no night sleeping, and vomit, lots of it.  On top of that, you acted like you were starting to teethe.  So on top of running my entire event for the week, I was constantly trying to check in with you and grandpa, making sure he got to eat, and spending most nights laying next to you keeping you comforted rather than sleeping.  Although I must say, the puking thing was less than ideal.  Do you realize you puked on all of mommies pajamas?  The last night I was sleeping in the hotel's bath robe.  

The mere thought of our plane ride home terrified me. I was so close to just packing up the rental mini van and driving home.  However, I decided five hours of torture was better than two days on the road.  After an hour or so of constant screaming on the plane, you eventually calmed down.  After a few sobbing episodes in the bathroom by me, a few hours of sleep by both of us, we were back on the ground in no time.  I won't even expand on the whole Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde baby you became; laughing and smilig one minute only to scream bloody murder/try to jump out of my arms the next minute for most of the plane ride.  I was convinced you had developed multiple personality disorder or had become bipolar. The doctor's number was on my phone and ready to dial upon landing as I wanted some tests done asap!

But alas we made it home.  Your fevers have not returned, nor has the puking.  You are not teething, you big faker, and you've been a tad cranky.  But I'm just happy to have you home and back with your daddy.  I know he thinks you purposely acted out because you missed him and we can let him think that if he wants but don't ever admit it; his head is big enough as it is.

In any event, despite the torturous trip it was, overall, everything went very well.  I still love you more than ever and I have learned many lessons so thanks for that.  I have a new outlook on traveling with kids and I don't think we'll be hopping on a plane any time soon again.  Please forgive me for the trip and understand it was done for purely selfish reasons; how dare I be away from you for a week!  All that matters is you were not home alone with your daddy puking on the rug because I can't even imagine the catastrophe that would have been. Your dad is just not ready for that yet.

All my love,


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