the longest day, or, flying international

The good news is, we're home, safe and sound, and everyone is getting right back on schedule. The bad news is, Saturday was perhaps the longest day of Clio's life; it was certainly the most waking hours she has ever had in a day.

We'll get to the fabulous Italian Villa and Clio's great vacation later, but for now I'm still feeling weary from the trip home. For starters, we had an hour drive to the airport in a van with the Messina's, likely future in-laws to my cousin Patrick, and his girlfriend Lauren. All of 10 minutes in, Clio got a little carsick. Okay, a lot car sick (she had a very big breakfast!) Dave got her cleaned up, and we breathed through our mouths for the next half hour... until she did it again. This time the Messina's noticed (it's amazing they were oblivious to the smell previously). We got to the airport and brought the whole stinking car seat inside, where I got Clio out of her (disgusting) clothes and found a bathroom to rinse her down, rinse out the clothes, and get her into a clean diaper. (we made a total mess, and the long line of women coming into the room were NOT happy, but pretending not to care that we were so disruptive was good practice for the plane.)

I'll skip the whole mess with Clio's missing infant ticket, but after shuttling between Delta and Alitalia for a good half hour and shelling out too much money for a ticket we already paid for (and discovering in the process that we were not, in fact, reserved in the bulkhead as promised), we eventually made it to the plane.

And the journey had only just begun. On the way TO Italy, we WERE in the bulkhead, where there is room for a baby to sit on the floor, and where they can install a baby bassinet.
Now, Clio did not think this was a very good place for sleeping, but she DID think it was a very good place for playing, and as if it was a jungle gym, she climbed in and out, in and out, for a very long time. Luckily, there were a few seats open and our third-seat companion was able to relocate. Eventually we had the brilliant idea of strapping her in to the middle seat and ignoring her until she went to sleep, which, eventually, did work.
Fast forward a week and a half to a far less successful return flight. Keep in mind that during our time in Italy, Clio practiced (and perfected) her new toddler tantrum behavior (or "tanties" as our friends Emily and Ben call them). Here we are in Venice- It goes something like this.

Wail:



Throw yourself backwards



And twist out of parental arms.



Now imagine this behavior in the middle seat of the very last row of a Delta airlines jet. For 5 hours. Yup, that's right, she cried for FIVE HOURS on and off. At one point the stewardesses forced me to come back into their prep area to distract Clio and walk her around. When I got up, I beheld the sight that every parent awaits in dread: half the plane looking back over their shoulders, sizing me up with either pity or anger, or, best of all, both.

The stewardesses were amazing, and helped us try EVERYTHING, including setting us up in the special, super-secret stewardess break seats, where they drew the curtains and everything. Eventually, 5 hours in, having been awake for 12 hours, Clio crashed while strapped to Dave's lap. When the stewardesses went by, one by one, with the snack carts, and noticed the silence, they cheered silently, raised the roof, and made the sign of the cross, respectively.

It takes a village.