Since Arabella showed she could go with our travel flow, we decided to up the stakes and add Baxter to our cohort. This weekend is the Orlando Family reunion back in PA— and when your daughter is the guest of honor, you show up. (We show up no matter what, but I love the invite and wanted to share a photo of it).
I had everything ready to go when Jarmon got home from work and was feeling extremely proud to have packed ten day’s worth of provisions for me, Baxter and Arabella into a single suitcase. I’m a habitual over packer, so this was a very big deal. We condensed significantly since vacation where Arabella had her own large suitcase (bigger than mine, actually). I was beginning to look at Uber options on my phone when I looked over and saw something white spilling out of Arabella’s mouth. Spit up. Impeccably timed. And this was not one of those spit up situations from which one can recovery easily— this was a stop what you’re doing because you are going to be cleaning for a while spit up situation. Pretty sure it was the entire contents of the bottle she had just consumed— and she wasn’t happy about it. Poor thing. I got Arabella changed into new travel PJ’s while Jarmon moved the spit-up covered Dock-A-Tot cover to the laundry tub. It will be so special to have that mess waiting when we get home— I can hardly wait.
Luckily the unfortunate start to our trip did not define the rest of it. We fit everything into one normal sized cab (we were pretty concerned about this since we were going to have to fit into DD’s normal sized car on the other end) and made our way to the airport. Curbside check in was much easier than going inside— and checking the car seat with our luggage was much easier than taking it to the gate. (DD convinced us to leave our stroller at home). When we got close to the gate, we decided to divide and conquer. I took Baxter and went to the restroom while Jarmon took Arabella and got us dinner. Ten minutes later we had set up camp around a single open chair and were eating tacos at the gate. Multiple people made observations about our flying with a baby AND a dog. There were various iterations: “You’ve got your hands full!” “You two are so brave!” “They’re both so cute!” “They’re both so well behaved!” We of course soaked up the compliments, but I’m not naive enough to overlook the obvious mental note they all were making— “These people are crazy. Pick a seat as far away as possible!”
We got on the plane like pros (I’d actually like to think anyone watching was impressed) and a very nice lady who seemed genuinely excited by Arabella and Baxter’s presence sat in the row with us. Baxter, per usual, didn’t make a peep. Arabella fell asleep before we even took off. They were so peaceful— Jarmon got to read a book and snooze for a few minutes. I was poised to order a glass of wine, but sadly turbulence grounded that idea.
DD picked us up at PIT And everything fit comfortably in his car. Not gonna lie, I loved every second of seeing Arabella in the Pittsburgh Airport. I have so many good memories of riding the tram and people movers as a kid that I of course had to document her first rides on them. Sadly, they’ll both be gone (victims of the dreaded airport modernization project) before she’s old enough to remember them. Jarmon was showing Arabella the giant dinosaur next to the escalators when a kind lady traveling to Kansas City asked if we wanted a family photo— we were thrilled.
I drove home and we made great time. MJ had a late-night Delallo’s feast waiting. She also made us homemade French fries.
My parents were beyond excited to have Arabella at their house for the first time. But it was a solid four hours past the late end of Arabella’s bedtime window and she was cranky. But you know what else? We’re at “The Grandparents’ House” and it’s not my problem. Jarmon and I settled into my childhood room which mercifully has gotten a new mattress since we last visited. Baxter meanwhile went to bed wondering why he had been in the house for two hours and still hadn’t gotten a new toy. He’s most certainly dreaming that the attention he’s grown accustomed to in PA will return in the morning.
My vision for this blog is two-fold. Selfishly, I want to document my adventures with Arabella so I can look back at them later, but I also hope it can be a place to share things others might relate to. To that extent, I’ve had so much fun the last few days hearing from old friends who reached out after reading my first few posts. People who have had similar experiences sharing laughs– others offering advice. One friend, whose opinion I respect, shared an observation. She told me that the title of my blog made it seem like I didn’t want to be a mom– and that it might be offensive to others who had struggled (or were struggling) with fertility. I admittedly never thought about it like that, so I was very glad for her input. I’ve met with enough TV consultants over the years to know that if one person takes the time to tell you something there are at least ten others who are thinking it. (As it turns out, one of those ten was my husband!) So, if you were offended by the title of my blog– I apologize. Attempts at being clever don’t always translate in a digital world.
Trina Orlando 