Friday, August 24, 2012

Five Months, San Antonio-Style

In the week before Abby turned six months old, my older brother Michael married his then-fiancee, Aimee.  The wedding took place in San Antonio, so Tom and I had to arrange a flight with a young baby, a daunting prospect.  We bought a new car seat in preparation (we were going to need it anyway, once Abby outgrew the infant seat) because my parents were taking the trip by car, and we wanted them to have a spare to keep with them, while keeping our current set-up in our own car for the trips to and from the airport.  We also made sure to book a direct flight (thankfully, this was an option), to keep things as simple and hassle-free as possible.  It was a little pricier, but worth it, in the end.

Abby did amazingly well on the flight up.  There was a bit of fussing, but it was highly manageable, and I nursed her on take-off and landing to help her avoid discomfort from the change in pressure.  It didn't help my own discomfort, unfortunately.

One diaper change was required on the way, and I was pleased to find that the plane had a serviceable changing station in the tiny bathroom.  Abby, however, was not at all pleased with any part of the experience.

We arrived on a Thursday afternoon, and our return-flight was scheduled for the following Sunday morning, so we didn't have a huge amount of time to sight-see.

We did, however, check out the Riverwalk on the Friday before the wedding.

Well, Tom and I did, anyway.

Saturday, April 30th, was the big day, and unfortunately, most of the great pictures of Abby were not taken by me, so I don't have them.  But here are a couple of her and me getting prettied up. (I realize that I appear t.o.p.l.e.s.s in these pictures, but I assure you that I am not-hooray for strapless bridesmaid's dresses!)

Between the Nuptial Mass and reception, Abby enjoyed her first ride in a limo with Mei Mei, Tom, me, and the bride and groom.  She did, however, sleep through half of it.

The color theme of the wedding was lavender, so at the reception the tables were draped in embroidered light purple runners.  Abby was fascinated with them.  Perhaps this was the start of her love of purple, which is currently her favorite color.

Of course, she had to see how it tasted, as well.

Later in the evening, Abby was serenaded by the wedding singer.  She was transfixed, until he stood up to move on to the next table, which I believe must have startled her, because she began to cry.  I cannot for the life of me remember what song he was singing, but I remember the whole head table getting a laugh out of the incident because her outburst timed perfectly with a line in a verse that involved the phrase "[you]...make me cry."

Because the evening ran later than her usual bedtime, Abby finished out the night asleep in her stroller.  She still managed to work in dances with the bride and groom (and me) this way.

The flight back was slightly more problematic than the flight up.  While Tom and I were ecstatic to be able to avoid the long line in security due to our "family" status (especially since we ended up running late), we had a crying episode on the plane that lasted perhaps twenty minutes.  It wasn't terrible, volume-wise, but it definitely caused me a great deal of stress until I got it under control, and earned me a couple of dirty looks.  The baby a few rows behind us had a much more impressive meltdown, which lasted a great deal longer, towards the end of the flight.

The return-flight plane was also, frustratingly, not equipped with a changing table in the bathroom.  And an in-flight diaper change was required again.  I don't remember much about the experience beyond some aural and visual flashes of deafening screams and flailing limbs.

When the plane landed, Tom, Abby, and I sat in our seats and watched most of the passengers exit before gathering our own things, so that we could leave at a leisurely pace.  As they passed by, our fellow passengers kept looking at Abby and making comments like, "She seems to be doing better now."  I was a little confused because, while I know that no one ever wants to hear a baby cry for any amount of time, I didn't think that our "hiccup" was that bad.  Finally, about five or six commenters in, a young father finally volunteered, "No, that was my daughter you heard."  And then I realized that poor Abby had been getting blamed for another baby's crying.  I was a little peeved, but thankful to that brave father for trying to set the record straight.

And thus ended our first cross-country adventure with a baby.  A success, overall, but not something I'll have the courage, or energy, (or, most importantly, perhaps, the money) to do in the immediate future.  Especially since we now have two.