Thursday, February 14, 2008

Road Trip!

Gabby had quite the adventure this past weekend. The occasion was a surprise party that my mom threw for my dad's 65th birthday at their retirement Active Adult Community clubhouse in Arizona. We figured that seeing his littlest grandbaby, and seeing all three of his adorable grandkids together for the first time, would be the icing on my dad's birthday cake.

Dad was duly surprised and delighted. We also learned a few things about traveling with Gabby.[1]

The good news is that, like her parents, girlina digs a good road trip. She spent a good part of the trip asleep, mastered the art of sucking down milk from a bottle in a moving vehicle, and still managed to sleep on her regular schedule at night, even managing the time difference with aplomb. Despite being cooped up in the back of a Mini Cooper for hours on end, she fussed for a grand total of maybe 30 minutes in both directions.

On the other hand, gone are the days when we could do a 12-16 hour drive (depending on traffic) in one shot, stopping only to fill one tank and empty another. No, this trip took the better part of four days, all for a 40 hour sojourn with my folks. Totally worth it, to be sure, but man, babies sure do march to their own (slow) drummer.

Gone also are the days when we could just throw a few things in a bag and head out. For the first time in, well, ever, I actually made a LIST. I started pumping for the trip a week in advance so we'd be able to give the wee one milk on the road without having to stop. We packed what I thought would be way more stuff than we'd ever need: six pairs of jammies for a four day trip; approximately a bazillion diapers; seven or eight different outfits; blankets; burp cloths; snuggle nest; snacks for the ride; half the medicine cabinet; and oh yeah, some clean underwear and a change of clothes for me. By the end of the trip, despite having done laundry mid-way through, I heard myself say, "Here. Put this one on her. It only has spitup on it."

Despite our snail's pace and the fact that both Peanut and I ended up with nasty colds by the end of the trip, we're really glad we made the journey. Our little road warrior has made her chops, and made her whole family happier in the process.

[1] Hereinafter known as "the wee one," "Peanut," "Smunchkin," "Chief Hungry Horse," "Princess Poopy Pants," "girlina," "baby monster," "kitten," "Boo Boo," or any other of a score of nauseatingly cute nicknames she seems to have acquired.

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