Down South Pt. 4: Stinks on a Plane

Our last day in Alabama we headed down to Birmingham for our final stop on the tour de Greta. Eleanor's friend April was having a party/shower for Greta and April asked us if we'd come down an hour early for a photo shoot. April's husband Ty is a photographer and their gift to us, in addition to the shower, was a sitting in his basement studio. Here's his site- http://web.mac.com/tyarendall

A few weeks ago we were very concerned about Greta and thought she might be constipated, but after speaking to a lactation consultant, we learned that during growth spurts, it's common for a baby to go 48 hours without a B.M. The downside is that when things start to move again it's explosive. You can probably see what's coming, but we got Greta to the photo studio and she wasn't smiling for the camera. In fact, she was really moody. We didn't know what was wrong. We thought it might be all the white sheets and white furniture. Maybe it was the lights or the small enclosed room. But we heard soon enough what the problem was. All of the sudden there was a "put, put, put" sound and room filled with a noxious odor. Greta gave a huge smile and Ty, the consummate professional, just kept shooting. Meanwhile, Eleanor and I are terrified that she'd not only blown out her diaper and ruined the cute white lamby outfit she was wearing, but we also thought she was destroying Ty's white sheets, pillows and padded table. I thought Ty was going to have to start shooting photos of people on yellow backgrounds, but we picked Greta up and there was no leakage. Whew.

After the photo shoot the girls went upstairs to the party and had a great time. Jerry and I went to the mall for a cup of coffee, some BBQ for lunch and then we headed back to the party. Eleanor and I were so grateful for the party and for Eleanor's friends who traveled great distances to meet Gretababy.

Our final adventure happened on the way home to Philly. We had bulkhead seats on the plane, which was great from a privacy standpoint. Eleanor had hoped to nurse Greta during the takeoff, which supposedly helps the baby's ears during the pressure change. The downside is that people with long legs, such as myself, don't have a seat in front of them to put their feet under. But I knew it was a short flight and it wasn't that big of a deal. In our row their were three seats. Eleanor and Greta were on the window, I was in the middle and a chatty woman from Michigan was to my right. Again, after a day of constipation, Greta had more to share, and half way through the flight she let 'er rip. It was obvious to me and everyone else in our general vicinity what had happened, so we knew that Greta needed to be changed. I volunteered since I was closest to the aisle. So I got out and had to, of course, go into the overhead bin for her diaper bag since there is no under seat storage when you're sitting up against the bulkhead. After waking an elderly lady and sharing my armpit with the chatty lady, I got the bag out. Keep in mind also that I'm in the very front row of the coach section of the plane. They're showing a video of a cooking show or a travel show of some destination that I'll never visit. At any rate, apparently I'm more interesting than whatever Rachel Ray is cooking, so I now have thirty-five rows of people watching me get out that dainty diaper bag with the Asian print with the pink flowers. I pull out a diaper, a burp cloth and a whole pack of wet wipes. I tuck them all into my back pocket, grab the stinky child and head the the bathroom, which is, again, in the very front of the coach section where everybody can see.

Now I'm in the bathroom. It seems to be even smaller than any other airplane bathroom that I've ever been in. I couldn't even get Greta in the door carrying her in my arms. I had to prop her up lengthwise to get her through the opening with me. We get in and I can't stand up because the ceiling is too low. That's fine because there is no counter to set her on to change her anyway. So I decided to sit on the toilet and put her on my lap, but that's a problem too because my feet are too long to have them positioned under my knees and still keep the door shut. So now I have to pull my feet back until they are under the rim of the toilet; the result is that now Greta doesn't have enough lap space to lay on and her head is hanging off the end of my knees. I decided that there wasn't a better way, so I'd better act quickly. I tore open the diaper, cleaned the epic mess and snapped the lamby outfit back up again just as the captain turned on the "fasten seat belt" light. Feeling proud I opened the door to face my thirty-five row audience. I started walking backing to my seat and WHAM! I hit my head on one of the TVs. I quickly ducked into my row, handed Greta off to Eleanor, closed my eyes and imagined I was home under the covers - but that wouldn't happen for another four hours.