Florida and Wedding

Finally a clear day at Clearwater Beach, Florida.


"SHESHELLS!!", or "SEASELLS!!" It's a hard word, ok?

A family picture at Sea World. I only posted this because I think the inner thigh of the man sitting behind me is disgusting and very funny at the same time.

Ruby at Sea World.

Chocolate on the face and a fancy dress on. A wedding dinner with great food and nothing to do...

From left to right: Ben (married to Ali, Jake's sister), Jessie (Jake's sister), Ali, Aliza (Jake's sister) and Jake (my husband).

From left to right: Levi the very talented, Rebecca my amazing and hilarious sis in law, Sarah the bride, and Darrell the groom.

These pictures are great and all, but the highlight of the trip has got to be the flight home.
So it's me, Grace and Ruby. We fly together a lot. "Together", but alone if you know what I mean. Alone meaning no other adults to help out.
So we're halfway between Tampa and Denver... probably over Mississippi or something. And Ruby starts complaining of a stomach ache. I take her out of her seat and help her stand up right in front of me, and she thanks me by promptly filling her diaper and "getting her poos out", as she likes to happily proclaim to us. The stink finds its way up and out so fast that the people in front of us are turning on their air blowers. I realize I need to change this diaper pretty quick.

So Grace and Ruby and I shuffle forward and awkwardly make our way to the front of the plane and into the bathroom. Gracie says she has to go pee. Now unless you've been in an airplane bathroom with a 4 year old and a 2 year old, you can't quite get this, but I will explain. If you help your 4 year old pull her drawers down, your face is literally inches from the toilet, because there is no room for you to back up while pulling them down. Inches from a toilet that's been used by several passengers. A not-so-sanitary toilet. So that, coupled with the stink that has been made in the diaper of said 2 year old and we are having fun already! So I ask Grace to go back to her seat and she seems to be heading down the aisle that way.

I close the door again and take a deep breath to prepare for my next adventure. Changing a 30 inch tall little girl on a 12 inch long toilet lid. Ruby's head, shoulders, back and tailbone are being supported. And that's where it ends. So with one hand, I grab her ankles. With the other hand I attempt to take her diaper off. Now attempt is a big word. It's a word that often leaves me disappointed. In this instance, attempt is what happened first and disaster is what happened next. The poo (a rather large, warm, mass) that was once nestled safely inside the diaper somehow topples out of the diaper and lands right on my big toe and onto the edge of my flip flop.. lingering.. for a moment... until I jerk my foot away in pit-of-my-stomach disgust and "it" goes flopping onto the floor.

This cleanup would have been all too easy except for the fact that between my smeared toe and me was a bum that needed cleaning and I couldn't do the toe before the bum. Not possible. Not enough room in the bathroom. Just when I formulate my next move, I hear Gracie start to bang on the bathroom door yelling at the top of her lungs, "Mommy come out! Sit down Mommy!!" I mean, you have GOT TO BE KIDDING. Everyone on the plane is literally watching the whole thing (or listening to the whole thing) because we are in the front bathroom. I crack open the door (trying not to let anyone see the mess that is happening inside), and do my most intense, quiet, mad, furious mom voice and tell her to "go sit down or else". I close the door and just hope that she does what I tell her.

So I turn back around and I clean Ruby up, trying to push the warm feeling on my toe out of my mind so I can finish the task (of course, trying to avoid the culprit which is still on the floor). I stand her up on the toilet lid, clean and diapered. Great. phew. Not phew, really.

By this time, the turbulence has gotten worse and Ruby is pitching side to side in the small bathroom atop the toilet lid. I hold onto her with one hand, and with the last three wipes left in my bag, I give myself a footbath. It kind of works. Then I have to go out of the bathroom and put Ruby back in her seat with Grace complaining for me to come sit down already. I go back to the bathroom and scrub all moisture out of my hands about 10 times, and really really really hope the flight ends soon.

It's good to be back.