Act One: Flying High
Inspite of my hubby warning me about the possible pitfalls in my decision to go alone with my hyperactive toddler, I went ahead anyways because I want my son to get to know his other set of grandparents,learn new things and see new faces etc etc. The fun began right after we stepped into the airport..my son's diaper leaked and his travel pants got soaked in,you know..Plus he knew somehow that he was going to be away from papa and was all over him like a rash. It was a battle between me and him to pry him away from his dad after which he cried a river for a good half an hour while in the line.The passengers who heard his wail must have been fervently praying and hoping that they don't get a seat next to this little guy. The security check was a nightmare because I was busy removing shoes and such while my son ran in between people and played hide-n-seek. Then he refuses to step into the fligt because of the loud noise emanating from outside..Onboard he spills cream on a fellow passenger, dunks his finger into the passenger's dessert cup,kicks a formula bottle of an infant and spills it on the aisle, plucks a couple of hairs from the man in the front, opens and closes the tray table atleast 500 times and punches the remote of the TV like a gazillion times...Well the list goes on and on..Then during the 2-hour layover at Brussels he went and sat on a lap of a complete stranger and carried on a conversation for atleast 15 minutes and so so..I call this half of the journey a walk in the park.
Act two:Clingy Situation
This is what I would call an "Ordeal" because this is when I reached a point where I had a major meltdown.
While the plane was rushing on the tarmac, right after touchdown on the Indian soil, in the early hours of dawn to reach its destination, my son was rushing towards the blissful oblivion only sleep could provide. While this might have been a Yay scenario some other time, it proved to be a real nightmare this time. Why? Haven't you heard? Never(pause) Ever(pause) wake a sleeping baby. But I had to, to disembark, you know. The minute we deplaned, my son climbed on to my hip like a monkey would a tree and refused to let go. Keep in mind that he isn't the only luggage I am carrying. Since I wanted to feel warm and comfy inside the plane, I had dressed up in layers which I decided to keep on cause I needed my hands free and luggages light to accomodate my precious cargo. It was hot and I was bothered. My son was startled to see that many people racing to beat the crowd to line-up for the H1NI screening at the airport.The minute I removed him from my hips, he started his waterworks and clung on to my jean-clad legs as though his very life depended on it. I had to drag myself to the line, patiently waiting for my chance to get my swine-flu form stamped and such..when I get there, I was rudely yelled at for not filling a seperate form for my son..so finish it and head up to the immigration counter where I was asked to fill another form for my son..something that I wasn't apprised of on-board. My kid raised his howling up a notch and tried pulling my jeans down..all around me were sea of people looking at me with loads of pity in their eyes..that did it! I unravelled right there..lack of sleep combined with anger at the merciless authorities for putting me through this turned into a bout of pitiful tears. I know they were doing their job but in my stressed-out state, logic was the last thing on mind..so between cussing, crying and cajoling my boy, I fill out the form and drag myself back to the line,finish my formalities before I drag myself to the baggage claim area. My son now rolls on the floor kicking and screaming wanting to go back where we came from for an escalator ride. You see, he was fascinated by the idea of gliding without walking.Finally the agents take pity and make an exception for me to go out,handover my son to the waiting arms of my MIL. Thirty minutes later, I head outside again with my luggage, ready to face whatever awaited me there. I let out a BIG fat **sigh** when I saw my son napping in my MIL's arms peacefully. Silly you if you thought this was the end of it.
Act Three:Trying times
While I was waiting for the carousel to deliver my luggage, my son takes a power nap in my MIL's lap and is fully recharged for a brand new series of torment. We reach home safe and sound at 2Am.By this time my body is screaming for much needed revival sleep that still eludes me not because I wished it but because my toddler was in high spirits as he was the center of attention and he wanted to prolong that. Finally we both get exhausted and hit the bed a couple of hours later. We both must have slept for 15 minutes or so he lets out a howl that could have woken the dead. The reason was because of the night watchman's whistle and I had to coax him back to sleep. At 6AM in the morning, he again lets out a scream that could have shattered the glasses in house due to the dogs barking outside. I don't have to tell many how lively it is in India in the early hours of dawn..
Act Four:Hope Floats
As me and my boy are struggling to reverse our bio-rhythm(body clock), "Having fun under the Indian sun" is yet to begin. So I keep wishing and hoping..
**Let the fun times BEGIN**