Monday, 4 May 2015

The poopy diaper on the restaurant floor is ours, thanks!

I love travelling. So does the husband.

And, so did WE, when we were dating. That was all we did, travel all over India, every time we wanted to meet, because we were in a long distance relationship, and meeting each other meant running away to some cool place for a week, and travel travel travel.

We did this for 3 years and spent shit loads of money and enjoyed every second of it.

And, then...

WE GOT MARRIED!

Which suddenly meant, money became sacrosanct and hard-earned. Travel suddenly became a leisurely activity that required us to spend money.

I frankly don't know why this happens. I don't know why money takes on such different meaning once you get married and the fun out of travel is taken away and thrown away to the dogs.



Then, one day, little P arrived and money took on a different meaning. It was for little P, everything that we had and everything that we bought. Every little experience seemed incomplete without him, and there was no way we were having fun without him, even though he didn't understand anything that was happening around him.

When little P was around 4 months old, and had set into a long-craved routine, boredom hit me long and hard. Life had a fixed routine to it, and motherhood, suddenly, became boring because it had the same thing going for it day in and day out.

So, we thought, let's travel!

We had planned the whole thing down to a T. We were to spend 1 week in Kerala, a place we had long been planning to visit.

The thing with travelling with a baby is, IT'S BLOODY EXPENSIVE!

I mean, shockingly expensive. You need to plan for every contingency that might hit you, and then there's a back up for every back up!

Even the second back up needs to have a back up, because, God forbid, what if everything goes to the dogs, and you are left without any back ups?!



Because we were travelling for the first time with little P, we were extremely anxious. To say that our anxiety levels had hit the roof, would be putting it lightly. We were both very close to dying of a sudden stroke, we were so panicky as first time parents and debutant travellers as parents.

We didn't want to take any risks. We had some idea of the weather, but we didn't want to get caught in a situation where we would be left paralysed for lack of something.

And so, we packed like crazy. In the end, we literally packed little P's ENTIRE WARDROBE! And, boy! does he have a lot of clothes?!

We packed summer wear, winter wear, clothes for a rainy day, clothes for a Sunday, and a Friday! We had 2 large suitcases, and one tiny one. It's easy to guess which one had mine and the husband's eight clothes in total. We were ready to sleep in our underwear, if need be, but there was no way we were going to fall short of clothes for little P!

We were even prepared for lack of laundry services, so we packed in some more! Clothes were coming out of pores, my god! The sheer amount of clothes!

We even went ahead and bought a pram, because, we were idiots who thought it would be easier to travel with one!

The day arrived. Our flight was at 6am, so we had to wake up little P at 2am, because, we stay a million light years away from the airport.

This was also the first time I would be feeding in public, and I was shit nervous and scared. I ordered what's called a nursing cover online. Baah! What a fool was I to think that such a tiny piece of cloth, which offered "complete coverage to you and baby; now feed in public in a modest manner", would actually cover even my hand!!!

So, I literally took things in my own hand, and created one! It was so big, that it could actually cover my entire 100 kgs! Woohoo!

Anyway, at the airport, as soon as we were done with our security, it was as if an alarm went off in little P's head. It was time for his feed, and I was one nervous mama bear. I kept looking around, going from place to place, in order to calm him down. But obviously, nothing worked.

I finally managed one somewhat lonely corner, and sat down with him and covered myself. I was sweaty and had goose bumps from what would happen next. What if someone saw me feeding him? What if he exposed me a little? Or too much? What if he threw a tantrum? What what what?

Nothing happened, and he fed like a dream! This was it, this had to be the most liberating moment of my life,  feeding in public. Nobody even realised what I was doing, or even if they did, nobody bothered.

Any hoo.. On to the trip.

To say that the trip was uneventful and boring, would be an understatement. WE DID NOTHING. Yep, for 6 days, we were cooped inside the hotel room because "what if?!"

The what if ruined our time as a family, as a vacationing family, rather. We would just step out thrice a day to eat, that's all. This had turned to be a nightmare vacation, the worst of our life together.

Only one exciting thing happened...



Those who know me will know that I have a freakish sense of smell and hearing. I have been called a dog and snake, it's that strong.

So, we are on our way back, at the airport lounge. This was a smallish airport, with a new food court and we were too excited to be the first patrons there. Yeah, life had become so boring that silly things like these excited us.

We sat down to eat, when the husband looks at me.

ME: What?

HUSBAND: Nothing. (staring at me)

ME: WHAT?! TELL ME!

HUSBAND: YOU farted!

ME: WTF! NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!

HUSBAND: Don't I know you?!

ME: I thought it was you!

HUSBAND: Err, no!!

Okay, then, may be it was neither of us, and it was someone around us.

We continued to eat, when, again, BOOM!



And, then, it dawned upon us. that our genes had been passed on to our little creation, our little P, who was turning out to be a big farter! Mr FARTYPANTS P!

Fine, no problem, we said, and continued to eat.

ME: sniff, sniff! What's that smell?

HUSBAND: What? I didn't smell anything.

ME: Is it the food? This smell is damn strange!

HUSBAND: YOU farted!

ME: WTF! NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!

HUSBAND: Don't I know you?!

ME: I thought it was you!



Hold on, one second! This little P is at it again! Yikes!

But, this time, we had more in store for us! yes, you guessed it!  IT WAS THE BIG P, THE NUMBER 2! IN THE MIDDLE OF A MEAL. SLAM DUNK IN THE MIDDLE OF A NEW RESTAURANT!

I love being a mom! There's nothing better than cleaning a poopy bottom on a restaurant floor (because there was no bathroom!), praying like crap that nobody from the management will figure what you are sneakily up to and throw you out of their premises for messing with their hygiene standards and putting off the rest of their patrons!

YOU GOT SOME MORE POOPY DIAPERS FOR ME?! BRING THEM ON!!


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