We are fortunate enough to have traveled to the sunny state of Florida this past week. It's hard to believe we have done this 3 years in a row. Every year we plan on not going, resolving to save our money towards one thing or another, but every winter the blues set in and we get an itchin' to go. We are blessed to have friends that live there and in-laws that have a time share.
So, when January's sub degree weather took a toll on us, we decided we needed us a vacation. I also reasoned with myself that I probably wouldn't be going on vacation this summer with a new baby on hand, so we needed to go somewhere for some rejuvenation (why not somewhere warm?). The hubs work schedule is also going to be crazy busy this summer, and quite frankly already has been busy and he needed a break.
After finding a really cheap flight, we were set to go. I was glad that we were going to fly because quite frankly I didn't know how these achy pregnancy legs could handle 25 hours in the car. And the flights all in all went well, with of course only a few minor set backs. I was so worried Kyra wouldn't do well since she had just been diagnosed with an ear infection, but she did great. Katie however had a little trouble with the decline. It must have been a sight to see watching two parents sink down to this child's level and make goofy jaw dropping faces to get her to do the same (so her ears would pop).
Then on the way back toward home Katie pooped in her diaper just minutes before we were supposed to board on a lay over flight from Indianapolis to Chicago. Unfortunately, because we are in the midst of potty training and had exhausted our supply of diapers on the trip, I didn't have a single diaper. I quickly went to an airport kiosk, paid $6 for a two pack of diapers and boarded the plane with my poopy daughter. Then I looked at the package and realized they were a size 3, which wouldn't be too bad except for the fact that she wears a size 5! Oh well, I knew I could squeeze her in. I waited anxiously until we were high enough in the air so we could take her into the teeny stall, hoping that nobody could smell the stench that I smelled. Finally the stewardess said something about the lavatory, and I darted for the door. Only, when I reached the front, the stewardess said "what do you think you're doing? the seat belt light is still on. You can't come up front." I thought that our short jaunt up front seemed rather steep. I guess I would have to wait a few more minutes. Only that time never came. Because it was such a short flight, we basically barely got to maximum height before we had to come back down. So here I sat with a poopy daughter, and an overpriced pack of diapers that were the wrong size. That's life with a two year old! It was an adventure and always is. Oh, and by the way, when I finally did change her at the airport, her little deposit was about the size of a dime. Wow, that kid can pack a punch!