Tahoe and Travel
Oh, hello there. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year.
Phew. Holidays are over. The tree is down, the decorations are stored away. I'm partly depressed, partly relieved. Yuletide just blew past me this year. Like last year. And the year before.
We went over and up up up to Lake Tahoe to visit Chris's parents.
Pictures here (Charlotte took the ones of my brother-in-law, who came from Seattle for Chris's mom's birthday): http://www.thishofmannlife.
We skied twice and even Charlotte had her first snow-plow down the mountain. Lots of snow, lots of family time, a bit of black jack (oh, Nevada), and . . . . a big fat travel adventure coming home.
Lorelei developed a fever during the Reno-to-San Francisco flight. We had a LONG layover at SFO until our flight to DC. During that time, Lorelei's fever climbed and climbed. How high? Dunno. We didn't have a thermometer. I went in search of children's Advil, which I found and bought for about a trillion dollars, and as we tried to give it to her, the child threw up. All over me. And herself.
But only one of us had an extra outfit.
Just when I couldn't think the horror could worsen, Lorelei threw up AGAIN. Alas, I was still holding her.
Oh, the mess. I'll spare you the details of where all it went, but suffice it to say that I was in tears, trying to clean the two of us up, insisting that we call a family friend who lives in San Mateo to bail us out. "We can't fly for 5 hours like this!" I wailed.
Chris, THE ONE WHO WAS NOT COVERED IN PUKE, disagreed. "Sure we can. It will be fine."
On my way to the bathroom to wipe throw-up off myself, I did what any normal person does when the shit (or puke) hits the fan. I called my mom. Still in tears.
She didn't answer her cell.
So, I called my dad. (I was desperate.) Totally serious, he asked, "I can come pick you guys up."
"WHAT?!" I said. "Where are you? That doesn't even make sense." Apparently still on the Central Coast of California, having visited my aunt's house for Christmas. A few hours away from San Francisco.
Ah, but Dad picks us up and then what? It didn't make sense.
"Is she fussy?" he asked.
"No, lethargic," I answered, smelling the puke on myself and sniffling.
"Then I'd try to do the flight. If you don't, she'll be upset at going somewhere new, getting separated from Chris and Charlotte, and it will just cause a new batch of problems."
"You're probably right," I said to him, possibly for the first time ever.
Chris changed Lorelei into one of the extra outfits I had packed, and we put her in a pull-up to be on the safe side down south. I even had plastic bags and such grossness as this, so we slowly got ourselves put back together.
Fortunately, I had been wearing a long cardigan that took the brunt of Lorelei's pukefest. A thin knit dress and leggings underneath were hit too, which I did my best to clean. Chris gave me his fleece. It was the best we could do.
On the never-ending plane ride home, I sat between the girls in a row of three and Chris sat happily across the aisle.
We didn't get home until 2:30 a.m. east coast time, and Lorelei stayed home from school the entire week. Oh, she has been a cranky, CRANKY girl, screaming and screaming. She's starting to get back to her regular self, so . . . back to normal for all of us soon, I hope.
Phew. Holidays are over. The tree is down, the decorations are stored away. I'm partly depressed, partly relieved. Yuletide just blew past me this year. Like last year. And the year before.
We went over and up up up to Lake Tahoe to visit Chris's parents.
Pictures here (Charlotte took the ones of my brother-in-law, who came from Seattle for Chris's mom's birthday): http://www.thishofmannlife.
We skied twice and even Charlotte had her first snow-plow down the mountain. Lots of snow, lots of family time, a bit of black jack (oh, Nevada), and . . . . a big fat travel adventure coming home.
Lorelei developed a fever during the Reno-to-San Francisco flight. We had a LONG layover at SFO until our flight to DC. During that time, Lorelei's fever climbed and climbed. How high? Dunno. We didn't have a thermometer. I went in search of children's Advil, which I found and bought for about a trillion dollars, and as we tried to give it to her, the child threw up. All over me. And herself.
But only one of us had an extra outfit.
Just when I couldn't think the horror could worsen, Lorelei threw up AGAIN. Alas, I was still holding her.
Oh, the mess. I'll spare you the details of where all it went, but suffice it to say that I was in tears, trying to clean the two of us up, insisting that we call a family friend who lives in San Mateo to bail us out. "We can't fly for 5 hours like this!" I wailed.
Chris, THE ONE WHO WAS NOT COVERED IN PUKE, disagreed. "Sure we can. It will be fine."
On my way to the bathroom to wipe throw-up off myself, I did what any normal person does when the shit (or puke) hits the fan. I called my mom. Still in tears.
She didn't answer her cell.
So, I called my dad. (I was desperate.) Totally serious, he asked, "I can come pick you guys up."
"WHAT?!" I said. "Where are you? That doesn't even make sense." Apparently still on the Central Coast of California, having visited my aunt's house for Christmas. A few hours away from San Francisco.
Ah, but Dad picks us up and then what? It didn't make sense.
"Is she fussy?" he asked.
"No, lethargic," I answered, smelling the puke on myself and sniffling.
"Then I'd try to do the flight. If you don't, she'll be upset at going somewhere new, getting separated from Chris and Charlotte, and it will just cause a new batch of problems."
"You're probably right," I said to him, possibly for the first time ever.
Chris changed Lorelei into one of the extra outfits I had packed, and we put her in a pull-up to be on the safe side down south. I even had plastic bags and such grossness as this, so we slowly got ourselves put back together.
Fortunately, I had been wearing a long cardigan that took the brunt of Lorelei's pukefest. A thin knit dress and leggings underneath were hit too, which I did my best to clean. Chris gave me his fleece. It was the best we could do.
On the never-ending plane ride home, I sat between the girls in a row of three and Chris sat happily across the aisle.
We didn't get home until 2:30 a.m. east coast time, and Lorelei stayed home from school the entire week. Oh, she has been a cranky, CRANKY girl, screaming and screaming. She's starting to get back to her regular self, so . . . back to normal for all of us soon, I hope.
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