Browser is temporarily forgiven, I suppose
Dec. 2nd, 2006 12:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
averygoodun42Oh, and this is a "what I did on my vacation" post. Or maybe, more accurately, "what I didn't do on my vacation" post.
So it started out badly.
DH had arranged for the cab to pick us up at 12, because he thought our flight was at 3. It wasn't. It was at 3:50. I was rushing around finishing up all the packing and cleaning when the taxi arrived on time. I remembered to turn down the furnace. I remembered to turn off all the lights. I remembered to turn off the computer. I remembered to pack the keys. I barely remembered to grab our winter coats, although I found that my warm coat was still packed in the downstairs closet, and would take too long to get, so I settled for my handmedown tweed coat which isn't quite so warm. I figured that with a warm sweater (which I had packed) it would be warmenough.
I forgot a hat. I forgot gloves, for myself and Babe. I forgot a scarf. I forgot our meds.
Fortunately, I remembered that I forgot the meds before we got onto the highway, so we turned around and DH fetched them, as well as something else that I had forgotten. Perhaps if I had done the fetching I would have remembered the gloves, hat and scarf, but that's pure conjecture, and implausible conjecture at that.
When we got to the airport (at 12:40; traffic was non-existant), we found out that due to a massive storm covering the entire eastern coast (from Georgia to New England, anyway), our flight was delayed until 4:40. That would have been okay, but the room was filling up with frustrated patron who were supposed to fly out at 12:30. And their p[ane still hadn't arrived at 4.
Any parent out there will tell you that normal babies are attuned to the emotions around them. Babe is no exception. Around 3:30 he started fussing. By 4 he was screaming, completely inconsolable. That was when we realized that DH and I had both asssumed, thanks to a tiny conversation while we were both stressed, that the other had packed the bottles. The bottles that Babe is not yet weaned from for naps and bedtime.
We had decided that only one bottle should be necessary, seeing as soap and hot water are widely available, and the bottle only being necessary twice a day. We found out how very necessary that one bottle was, though.
So, there we were with an inconsolable, screaming baby in a small room filled with frustrated travellers. The only place we could take him that wasn't a huge long walk away (I HATE Logan Airport. HATE!!!!) was a long, narrow, tiled hallway connecting the C concourse to the E concourse. (It's New England. There's never a straight, logical path.) So, while DH was off buying some milk that would hopefully placate Babe, even without a bottle, I took him into the hallway, leaving our bags in the care of the friendly old man who had been playing peekaboo with Babe only an hour before.
DH found us in the hallway, commenting that he could hear the screaming from the other end, and had been hoping it wasn't Babe. I barely heard him over Babe's screaming. Unfortunately, the sippy cup full of milk only made matters worse as far as Babe was concerned. I think it just insulted him.
After an hour of screaming (bringing us to 5:00), I was starting to worry about Babe crying himself sick. He was making disturbing belching noises inbetween his cries, and so there was little choice but to take him into the tiled halway again, if only so that clean up would be easily met.
It was around then that we forced some Benadryl down Babe's throat. That was fun. Fortunately, it worked. About ten minuutes later, Babe had calmed down enough so that DH could sing to him, and he quieted down all the way.
And it was just in time, too. Babe had barely stopped crying when there were two updates at once. The 12:30 flight's plane had finally landed, so they would be boarding as soon as the plane had been emptied, and our flight had been moved to a different gate.
We departed a little less than an hour later, landing in Atlanta around 9:30. Our original connection had been at about 7. With the original delay, we would have had fifteen minutes to change concourses. Leaving an hour before the connecting flight was due to depart meant that we had to hope there was a later flight.
We hoped in vain.
The next flight out to Denver was at 9:15 the next morning. At that point, I was glad. I was tired, I was grumpy and I just wanted to get a good night's sleep in all of us. Then I found out that our bags were gone, including Babe's crib. (I don't know how our bags got checked through when there wasn't a flight through, but they were. Or at least that's what the airline told us.)
So, we found the shuttle to the hotel the airline had given us a discount voucher for (only a discount, because we were grounded by weather), and ordered some not-so-great pizza. DH also managed to procure some milk from the person at the desk, so Babe had the healthy dinner of milk and pizza cheese with a bit of pepperoni as garnish. He doesn't eat the crusts. Probably it was a wise move. I had, and I immediately started feeling queasy.
Then we went to bed. We tried to get Babe to sleep on his own in one of the beds, but we quickly figured out that wasn't going to work, so we put him between us. Thankfully, he imitated us, and eventually fell asleep. Unfortunately, he's a complete bed hog. I ended up swtiching beds three times that night. And that's without mentioning that Babe started another screaming fit at 2:45 that morning for some reason, stopping only when we had forced fed him some water.
My exhaustion, combined with my short, stressed temper, combined with the persistent nausea nearly made for murder that night. Fortunately, DH was there. Babe fell asleep, and so did I.
We had ordered a wake-up call for 7:00 the next morning, as our shuttle would be arriving at 7:40. We figured that would be enough time to get up, get dressed and eat some of the continental breakfast offered before the shuttle came. I woke up, and, feeling like it must be getting close to seven, looked at the clock.
7:34.
If it had been just DH and myself, maybe, maybe we might have caught that shuttle, even though they recommend being there ten minutes beforehand. But it wasn't just us. We had to wake up Babe, get him into his clothes and gather the few belonging we did have together (although we forgot the nightlight in the plug).
We managed to make it to the front desk by 7:45, though, Not bad. Too late, but not bad. We ended up sharing a taxi that the front desk had called for another patron, and it was good that we had. Taking that cab got us to the gate just in time for them to be making their final boarding call. Considering we got into the shortened line (the one for the elderly and those with small children) of security, I think that waiting another fifteen minutes for the free shuttle would have made us miss the flight.
So, we flew to Denver. Babe still wasn't happy, but his screaming fits were only occasional. We landed, got our car (being financed by DH's parents: "If we'd had the chance to come out to see you it would cost more than that"), and finally arrived on my sister's doorstep. She wasn't home, but it wasn't a complete disaster. My B-I-L was, and the front door was blessedly open.
Needless to say, we were exhausted.
We stayed at my sister's longer than we originally planned, but I was experiencing that combination of happiness, guilt and exhaustion which made it difficult to move. So we didn't. We stayed there until Saturday evening, by which time I was feeling more than just tired. I felt ill.
I took a pill or two to keep everything in check while we made our journey down to Pueblo, and it was okay. We arrived. It was Good.
We got there in time for dinner, and we all had a happy reunion of a dinner which, I think, included DH's sister's husband (he works odd hours, so we didn't get to see a lot of him).
Then I crashed. I started feeling ill again, once food hit my stomach. Bed was my friend.
Bed became my intimate friend the next day. I tried to get up and eat breakfast, but found that I was still nauseaous and now I was dizzy whenever I tried to sit up. I decided to stay horizontal, even though that meant missing lunch with the aunt and uncle who'd come in from the Springs. It was a bummer, but I just didn't have the energy.
That day I subsisted on water, ginger-ale and oyster crackers. The oyster crackers were a late edition though. That was after I'd thrown up thanks to a bit of broth I'd sipped. (Word to the wise: always choose chicken broth over beef if you've a dicey stomach.)
Things slowly got better after that, stomach wise. Unfortunately, my sinuses weren't so happy. I do believe that I blew a few of my brains out at one point during the trip. Well, it looked like it, anyway.
And then I was having trouble breathing. I developed a nasty cough. Every morning I had to cough for a minute or two before I could breathe, and then it was still weakly. It felt a lot like a perpetual asthma
attack. Considering I didn't have a fever, it probably was.
An inhaler wasn't part of the meds DH fetched.
I got better, though. Kind of. By Thanksgiving I was back on food, albeit half portions. I was able to be up and about for most of the day, which was good. It was great seeing everyone (everyone being 15 other family members), but, by the day's end, I was tired. I went to bed before Babe did, and slept just as well as he did.
Unfortunately, around the time I started feeling a bit better, DH started feeling very poorly. He'd been feeling kind of sniffly and tired the whole time I was ill, but well enough that he could take care of Babe in the mornings and let me sleep in. (He is such a good man!) Now he was coughing, exhausted and generally ill.
So, the last two days in Pueblo were spent with him napping and me lazing in front of the tv watchingpirated copies of Doctor Who, season two.
We were not exciting guests. We were not helpful guests. We were pests of guests, and the only good thing about the whole sick thing was that it was probably the same thing that DH's parent had just gone through, so we probably didn't give it to them.
And then we went back north. We stayed at my sister's again, and then at DH's ex-roomate's place. We saw lots of people, and it was Good. Even though we were both still pretty tired, and I was still coughing pretty heavily.
The good bit was seeing everyone. Even better was seeing so many of those people looking so good. My sister has lost a ton of weight, and, thanks to the diet she's on, has not only completely controlled her blood sugar, but her gray hairs have brown roots. Amazing diet that. Hard as hell to stay on, but amazing results if you're true. One of these days I'll go on it again, especially if Babe ever shows signs of being chronically ill.
DH's ex-roomate not only has lost his pudge, but is even starting to socialize! It's possible that he won't remain a bachelor his entire life, although at 42 he's getting on the "confirmed" side of things. But, you never know. He looks happy, and that's the important thing. If I were Emma, I might try setting him up with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zalena, but I'm not Emma, thank goodness.
Speaking ofzalena, we had dinner with her, and that was wonderful. It was a simple dinner of beef stew and homemade bread (I never did try that cheese, darn it) but it was delicious, and friendly, and generally lovely. Unfortunately, Babe was a tad cranky to begin with, but thanks to DH's wonderful parenting skills, his wonderful skills of impersonation, and a Kermit the Frog puppet, all was not miserable.
The hardest part was leaving everyone. That's the real reason I don't like travelling. When we left Pueblo, I was near tears. Seeing DH's parents was good, but seeing his sister and her kids was wonderful. Seeing Babe and his youngest cousin interact (by the time we left, they were great friends and co-conspirators in a couple of capers, including one that involved a bottle of cough syrup and a call to poison control) was almost painful, knowing that it was for such a short amount of time.
When we left, I wanted nothing more than to move there to be close to them. It's not feasible in any way, but that's what I wanted. It's kind of funny that I felt more meloncholy at leaving his family than mine, but I guess it's because his sister and I are in more similar places right now than my sister and I are. Also, his sister's kids are less spastic than my sister's kids, or maybe they just seem so because they're boys rather than girls. I really don't get along with girls very well. Especially not girly girls. (Barbie must die. She always did in my hands/imagination.)
And now we're home. Babe is suddenly very happy again, smiling, flirting, playing, and generally being the wonderful child he hasn't been since we left. However, it seems he has finally learned how to climb out of the crib. My sister's youngest taught him that. Naptime is going to be a chore from now on.
It is good to be home again. There's an awful lot to do before my parents come over for Christmas, not least of which is figuring out all our sleeping (and computer) arrangements. Hopefully I'll get over this cold thing quickly now that we're home. I expect I will, as my travelling is done.
I'm home now.
So it started out badly.
DH had arranged for the cab to pick us up at 12, because he thought our flight was at 3. It wasn't. It was at 3:50. I was rushing around finishing up all the packing and cleaning when the taxi arrived on time. I remembered to turn down the furnace. I remembered to turn off all the lights. I remembered to turn off the computer. I remembered to pack the keys. I barely remembered to grab our winter coats, although I found that my warm coat was still packed in the downstairs closet, and would take too long to get, so I settled for my handmedown tweed coat which isn't quite so warm. I figured that with a warm sweater (which I had packed) it would be warmenough.
I forgot a hat. I forgot gloves, for myself and Babe. I forgot a scarf. I forgot our meds.
Fortunately, I remembered that I forgot the meds before we got onto the highway, so we turned around and DH fetched them, as well as something else that I had forgotten. Perhaps if I had done the fetching I would have remembered the gloves, hat and scarf, but that's pure conjecture, and implausible conjecture at that.
When we got to the airport (at 12:40; traffic was non-existant), we found out that due to a massive storm covering the entire eastern coast (from Georgia to New England, anyway), our flight was delayed until 4:40. That would have been okay, but the room was filling up with frustrated patron who were supposed to fly out at 12:30. And their p[ane still hadn't arrived at 4.
Any parent out there will tell you that normal babies are attuned to the emotions around them. Babe is no exception. Around 3:30 he started fussing. By 4 he was screaming, completely inconsolable. That was when we realized that DH and I had both asssumed, thanks to a tiny conversation while we were both stressed, that the other had packed the bottles. The bottles that Babe is not yet weaned from for naps and bedtime.
We had decided that only one bottle should be necessary, seeing as soap and hot water are widely available, and the bottle only being necessary twice a day. We found out how very necessary that one bottle was, though.
So, there we were with an inconsolable, screaming baby in a small room filled with frustrated travellers. The only place we could take him that wasn't a huge long walk away (I HATE Logan Airport. HATE!!!!) was a long, narrow, tiled hallway connecting the C concourse to the E concourse. (It's New England. There's never a straight, logical path.) So, while DH was off buying some milk that would hopefully placate Babe, even without a bottle, I took him into the hallway, leaving our bags in the care of the friendly old man who had been playing peekaboo with Babe only an hour before.
DH found us in the hallway, commenting that he could hear the screaming from the other end, and had been hoping it wasn't Babe. I barely heard him over Babe's screaming. Unfortunately, the sippy cup full of milk only made matters worse as far as Babe was concerned. I think it just insulted him.
After an hour of screaming (bringing us to 5:00), I was starting to worry about Babe crying himself sick. He was making disturbing belching noises inbetween his cries, and so there was little choice but to take him into the tiled halway again, if only so that clean up would be easily met.
It was around then that we forced some Benadryl down Babe's throat. That was fun. Fortunately, it worked. About ten minuutes later, Babe had calmed down enough so that DH could sing to him, and he quieted down all the way.
And it was just in time, too. Babe had barely stopped crying when there were two updates at once. The 12:30 flight's plane had finally landed, so they would be boarding as soon as the plane had been emptied, and our flight had been moved to a different gate.
We departed a little less than an hour later, landing in Atlanta around 9:30. Our original connection had been at about 7. With the original delay, we would have had fifteen minutes to change concourses. Leaving an hour before the connecting flight was due to depart meant that we had to hope there was a later flight.
We hoped in vain.
The next flight out to Denver was at 9:15 the next morning. At that point, I was glad. I was tired, I was grumpy and I just wanted to get a good night's sleep in all of us. Then I found out that our bags were gone, including Babe's crib. (I don't know how our bags got checked through when there wasn't a flight through, but they were. Or at least that's what the airline told us.)
So, we found the shuttle to the hotel the airline had given us a discount voucher for (only a discount, because we were grounded by weather), and ordered some not-so-great pizza. DH also managed to procure some milk from the person at the desk, so Babe had the healthy dinner of milk and pizza cheese with a bit of pepperoni as garnish. He doesn't eat the crusts. Probably it was a wise move. I had, and I immediately started feeling queasy.
Then we went to bed. We tried to get Babe to sleep on his own in one of the beds, but we quickly figured out that wasn't going to work, so we put him between us. Thankfully, he imitated us, and eventually fell asleep. Unfortunately, he's a complete bed hog. I ended up swtiching beds three times that night. And that's without mentioning that Babe started another screaming fit at 2:45 that morning for some reason, stopping only when we had forced fed him some water.
My exhaustion, combined with my short, stressed temper, combined with the persistent nausea nearly made for murder that night. Fortunately, DH was there. Babe fell asleep, and so did I.
We had ordered a wake-up call for 7:00 the next morning, as our shuttle would be arriving at 7:40. We figured that would be enough time to get up, get dressed and eat some of the continental breakfast offered before the shuttle came. I woke up, and, feeling like it must be getting close to seven, looked at the clock.
7:34.
If it had been just DH and myself, maybe, maybe we might have caught that shuttle, even though they recommend being there ten minutes beforehand. But it wasn't just us. We had to wake up Babe, get him into his clothes and gather the few belonging we did have together (although we forgot the nightlight in the plug).
We managed to make it to the front desk by 7:45, though, Not bad. Too late, but not bad. We ended up sharing a taxi that the front desk had called for another patron, and it was good that we had. Taking that cab got us to the gate just in time for them to be making their final boarding call. Considering we got into the shortened line (the one for the elderly and those with small children) of security, I think that waiting another fifteen minutes for the free shuttle would have made us miss the flight.
So, we flew to Denver. Babe still wasn't happy, but his screaming fits were only occasional. We landed, got our car (being financed by DH's parents: "If we'd had the chance to come out to see you it would cost more than that"), and finally arrived on my sister's doorstep. She wasn't home, but it wasn't a complete disaster. My B-I-L was, and the front door was blessedly open.
Needless to say, we were exhausted.
We stayed at my sister's longer than we originally planned, but I was experiencing that combination of happiness, guilt and exhaustion which made it difficult to move. So we didn't. We stayed there until Saturday evening, by which time I was feeling more than just tired. I felt ill.
I took a pill or two to keep everything in check while we made our journey down to Pueblo, and it was okay. We arrived. It was Good.
We got there in time for dinner, and we all had a happy reunion of a dinner which, I think, included DH's sister's husband (he works odd hours, so we didn't get to see a lot of him).
Then I crashed. I started feeling ill again, once food hit my stomach. Bed was my friend.
Bed became my intimate friend the next day. I tried to get up and eat breakfast, but found that I was still nauseaous and now I was dizzy whenever I tried to sit up. I decided to stay horizontal, even though that meant missing lunch with the aunt and uncle who'd come in from the Springs. It was a bummer, but I just didn't have the energy.
That day I subsisted on water, ginger-ale and oyster crackers. The oyster crackers were a late edition though. That was after I'd thrown up thanks to a bit of broth I'd sipped. (Word to the wise: always choose chicken broth over beef if you've a dicey stomach.)
Things slowly got better after that, stomach wise. Unfortunately, my sinuses weren't so happy. I do believe that I blew a few of my brains out at one point during the trip. Well, it looked like it, anyway.
And then I was having trouble breathing. I developed a nasty cough. Every morning I had to cough for a minute or two before I could breathe, and then it was still weakly. It felt a lot like a perpetual asthma
attack. Considering I didn't have a fever, it probably was.
An inhaler wasn't part of the meds DH fetched.
I got better, though. Kind of. By Thanksgiving I was back on food, albeit half portions. I was able to be up and about for most of the day, which was good. It was great seeing everyone (everyone being 15 other family members), but, by the day's end, I was tired. I went to bed before Babe did, and slept just as well as he did.
Unfortunately, around the time I started feeling a bit better, DH started feeling very poorly. He'd been feeling kind of sniffly and tired the whole time I was ill, but well enough that he could take care of Babe in the mornings and let me sleep in. (He is such a good man!) Now he was coughing, exhausted and generally ill.
So, the last two days in Pueblo were spent with him napping and me lazing in front of the tv watching
We were not exciting guests. We were not helpful guests. We were pests of guests, and the only good thing about the whole sick thing was that it was probably the same thing that DH's parent had just gone through, so we probably didn't give it to them.
And then we went back north. We stayed at my sister's again, and then at DH's ex-roomate's place. We saw lots of people, and it was Good. Even though we were both still pretty tired, and I was still coughing pretty heavily.
The good bit was seeing everyone. Even better was seeing so many of those people looking so good. My sister has lost a ton of weight, and, thanks to the diet she's on, has not only completely controlled her blood sugar, but her gray hairs have brown roots. Amazing diet that. Hard as hell to stay on, but amazing results if you're true. One of these days I'll go on it again, especially if Babe ever shows signs of being chronically ill.
DH's ex-roomate not only has lost his pudge, but is even starting to socialize! It's possible that he won't remain a bachelor his entire life, although at 42 he's getting on the "confirmed" side of things. But, you never know. He looks happy, and that's the important thing. If I were Emma, I might try setting him up with
zalena, but I'm not Emma, thank goodness.Speaking of
zalena, we had dinner with her, and that was wonderful. It was a simple dinner of beef stew and homemade bread (I never did try that cheese, darn it) but it was delicious, and friendly, and generally lovely. Unfortunately, Babe was a tad cranky to begin with, but thanks to DH's wonderful parenting skills, his wonderful skills of impersonation, and a Kermit the Frog puppet, all was not miserable. The hardest part was leaving everyone. That's the real reason I don't like travelling. When we left Pueblo, I was near tears. Seeing DH's parents was good, but seeing his sister and her kids was wonderful. Seeing Babe and his youngest cousin interact (by the time we left, they were great friends and co-conspirators in a couple of capers, including one that involved a bottle of cough syrup and a call to poison control) was almost painful, knowing that it was for such a short amount of time.
When we left, I wanted nothing more than to move there to be close to them. It's not feasible in any way, but that's what I wanted. It's kind of funny that I felt more meloncholy at leaving his family than mine, but I guess it's because his sister and I are in more similar places right now than my sister and I are. Also, his sister's kids are less spastic than my sister's kids, or maybe they just seem so because they're boys rather than girls. I really don't get along with girls very well. Especially not girly girls. (Barbie must die. She always did in my hands/imagination.)
And now we're home. Babe is suddenly very happy again, smiling, flirting, playing, and generally being the wonderful child he hasn't been since we left. However, it seems he has finally learned how to climb out of the crib. My sister's youngest taught him that. Naptime is going to be a chore from now on.
It is good to be home again. There's an awful lot to do before my parents come over for Christmas, not least of which is figuring out all our sleeping (and computer) arrangements. Hopefully I'll get over this cold thing quickly now that we're home. I expect I will, as my travelling is done.
I'm home now.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-12-02 10:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-03 06:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-02 02:12 pm (UTC)BTW - I thought Babe was adorable, even with the crankiness. In his shoes I would be cranky, too.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-03 06:55 am (UTC)I didn't really blame Babe for his mood, either. He didn't exactly have a choice in the matter, and that's a difficult position to be put in. I'm just glad he mellowed out. I wish you could see him as he normally is, because he is truly adorable then.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-02 02:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-03 07:02 am (UTC)I always get sick when travelling, especially to Colorado. I'm allergic to CO, which is why I was hesitant to take the tickets in the first place. I'm glad I did, though. If not for my benefit, then for our families'. Cheers!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-04 05:18 am (UTC)It does feel good to be home after a trip though. Even when everything goes right. I sure hope that you will get over your cold soon so you can be productive getting ready for Christmas company. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2006-12-06 06:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-06 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-07 03:33 am (UTC)I am feeling better, thanks, although I do believe this is a tenacious bugger of a cold. I still don't have my singing voice back, and it's been nearly three weeks now!