Deja Vu

I am sure, by now, I have probably told you the story about the first time I flew with Kayden.

A little recap, for those that have never heard it:

He was three weeks old, and I was traveling back to California after Thanksgiving. I felt kind of icky all day, but that is not unusual when I travel so I forged ahead. This is probably TMI, but the only thing that even sounded remotely good were skittles and a bologna sandwich. I know, I know. I can hear you now. That combination alone would make most people vomit.

My first flight to Minneapolis was pretty uneventful, and I had a two hour layover until I could board for California. Laying Kayden on a blanket seemed like a great idea, until I saw mice scampering directly under the chair. I packed up the blanket, the toys, the burp cloths, wipes, the mass amount of items needed when they are that small and took a few laps around the airport with the stroller. Something was just not sitting right.

I called my mom and thought about turning around and heading to Grand Rapids, but I was just as close to California so I went ahead and boarded. The plan was to nurse Kayden and then have him sleep the rest of the flight. Fortunately, there was one open seat next to me. Unfortunately, he would never need it.

The cart has just begun aisle service when I felt the rumblings of a stomach gone bad. I asked Pat, a complete stranger in the same row, to hold Kayden while I went to the bathroom. There was one problem, though: the cart service was in the aisle and I could not get around it. I asked the flight attendant if I could pass by, and it took a minute for him to understand my urgency in passing.

Finally, he moved. I took a few steps and spewed hot pink vomit all over 5 rows of people. Most of the rest of that flight was spent running up and down the aisles checking on Kayden and sitting in the jump seat near the back. Pat was an angel, as Kayden never woke up the whole time. One flight attendant even came back at one point and said, "the baby is doing great with your mom."

The very, very worst part was the walk of shame when I got to the airport and had to wait at the "plane-side" valet for the stroller. Mass amounts of angry people whispering about me as they went by. I could not even pretend I wasn't the culprit, because I had bright red pants on.

Ever since then, I have been really careful about flying when I do not feel well.

Until today, that is.

It was a long day of cancellations and delays. Flights we were supposed to be on, we missed due to mechanical difficulties, Somehow we were taken off the passenger list altogether; they wanted to have us spend the night at the airport and leave tomorrow morning. As much as two children sleeping on a floor most likely inhabited by Atlanta-based mice appealed to me, I was adamant that they get me on a flight today.

About an hour before the flight, I started to get the same icky feeling. I was determined to push through it and board after such a long day. Equipped this time with my little white bag, we were not even on the plane 10 minutes and I was already sick.

My poor mother had to take care of my two kids for the entire hour and a half ride while I was sick in the bathroom. Being air born is really not the best place to be ill. It really sucks. I am just hoping my mom will let us come on vacation it the future, with these being her final reminder of the week.

Oh, and the walk of shame? It was not any easier this time around.....