AWESOME TRAVEL MOM IS DEAD

After years of touring and travelling with children, even as a young mom, I considered myself rather travel savvy. I could strap one kid onto my body, while holding another’s hand, while keeping the third teetering on the edge of the potty. I could change a diaper on my lap in a gas station parking lot. I could keep children on their regular nap schedule while driving through the night. I had mastered the art of how to pack an Inspector Gadget type bag that would contain the answer to every possible travelling kid quandry.  Bored? Little toys you haven’t seen before. Sleepy? Your very favorite blanky. Tired of that book? A brand spankin’ new one. Hungry? The best snacks you could imagine. Messy? Wipes and cute new outfit.  I was a pro.

That’s why, when my dear mother in law offered to buy plane tickets for my (then) three kids and I to come and see her in Alabama, I wholeheartedly accepted. I was undaunted by the thought of getting on a plane with three children under the age of four. I even bought them the world’s cutest matching outfits, so that, as we made our triumphant parade through the airport. People would swoon. I got this.

The day came and I was ready. Bags were packed, everybody was in their “my mom is the most organized and together mom” costume and Barry waved us confidently through security. I’m sure he too was thinking, “She’s got this”. We waltzed our way to our gate, diaper bag on my back, baby strapped on my front, the other two holding my hands and wearing their own mini-inspector-gadget, pre-stocked by mom backpacks. I am telling you, people swooned. The matching green plaid flannel pants had just the desired effect and I could feel the love and admiration of passers by.  By some strange miracle, the children were perfect. They sat in their seats in the gate area, swinging their feet and peeking in their “my mom is awesome” backpacks. The baby gurgled and flirted with folks and I relished in my sense of accomplishment. A flight attendant offered to let us board early as she thought we would need more time. I feigned gratitude and boarded early while thinking to myself, “I could most likely effectively board this plane with three small children faster than most of these jokers here”.  We were comfortably seated, backpacks stowed, kiddos reading their new books and the baby snuggling on my lap. We were doing it. I had done it. I was awesome.

Circumstances being as pleasant as they were that day, constipation was far from my mind. However, 1 day prior, I had taken mental note of the fact that the baby had not pooped in two whole days. I remember thinking to myself that he had better poop before we get on that plane and that was the last time I thought of it. Even for the world’s most travel savvy mom, keeping careful track of everyone’s bowel movements proved to be one too many tasks.

The baby was bouncing on my knees, trying to get the attention of the couple seated in front of us and they were glancing back at him, charmed to be sure. It was sublime, The pilot came on over the speaker and gave the final “Flight attendants, please prepare for departure” announcement and the baby made his own announcement in the form of the loudest poop noise a baby has ever made in the history of babies pooping. It was so loud that it startled the couple in front of me and they turned around and looked me straight in the eyes. We shared a brief moment of my own personal terror and then they quickly kept to themselves.

When the sweet little constipated baby joyfully unleashed himself in that inopportune moment, it was a poop geyser. Mustard colored liquid poop shot up the back of his onesie to his neck, immediately. I could see it coming out the top of his shirt and threatening to soak his perfect blonde, my-travel-mom-is-awesome, curls. I shrieked and looked around for help. No help. No getting up and rushing him to the bathroom because the flight attendants were preparing for departure. I was all alone in row 24 with a poop covered baby and a 3 and 4 year old.

I was comforted, almost immediately by the thought of my Inspector Gadget diaper bag. I started giving sing-song, calm-but-trembly instructions to the three year old next to me. “Can you see that bag near Mommy’s feet? Can you get it for Mommy? Oh thank you! Now, can you unzip that front zipper and find mommy the wipes? Yes, they are in there. Look again, honey. Ok, let’s look in that side zipper. Look a little harder, ok? Can you just open up the big middle zipper? Put your hands around in there and feel for the wipes ok? Can you put your face in there and look for Mommy? Feel around with both of your hands, okay? No?”

That’s right, awesome travel mom who ignores constipation had also forgotten wipes.  Poop was coming out of every opening on the baby’s green flannel pants and soaking through the back of his shirt. He was happy as a clam and I was freaking out.

I wish someone had witnessed what took place next because it is was a tactical feat. I pulled down the back of the seat tray in front of me and balanced the poop covered baby on it. I yanked the barf bag out of the seat pocket and had the three year old hold it open. I  peeled poop clothes off of the giggly baby and stuffed them in the barf bag. Those green flannel my- mom- is-awesome pants were retired on the day of their debut. I then used a burp cloth to wipe down the whole adorable poop baby and the three year old had another barf bag waiting for it. The helpful three year old found a lone onesie in the bottom of the diaper bag, the only extra article of clothing awesome-travel-mom had brought along for her constipated baby. When the whole procedure was complete, the baby was in a white trash onesie with his arms, legs, neck and curls tinged a lovely shade of mustard yellow.

Awesome travel mom was so shaken by this event. How could awesome travel mom forget wipes? How could awesome travel mom forget extra clothes? Why did awesome travel mom not buy two green flannel outfits? Why did awesome travel mom ignore infant constipation and not prepare for this possibility? Was awesome travel mom even real? What kind of mom was I if I wasn’t even prepared for poop???

When we arrived in Alabama, I trudged off of the plane in defeat. My big kids ran ahead of me when they saw their Gran and I walked up sheepishly with an undressed, mustard colored, happy baby strapped to my chest. Gran had a good laugh.

Awesome travel mom lost all confidence that day and sort of gave up. If I was capable of such a glaring oversight, what else was I capable of? Would I forget diapers? Would I forget snacks? Would I forget a child? (that’s for another day….) Obviously, I was not who I thought I was. After this experience, I sort of let awesome travel mom die. I started letting kids pack their own backpacks. I started buying snacks on the go instead of planning them out and ziplocking them ahead of time. I bought a kid leash. I did, however, become more aware of my children’s bowel movements and how they might affect any plans I make. And I always carry wipes.