Timed to Perfection

I'm coming up on a very important anniversary.

It was Thanksgiving break a couple years ago and I was traveling alone with the three boys- 5,4, and 1. And not to mention, I was also 7 months pregnant. So you go on ahead and create the scene in your own head. You know, where you're settling into your airplane seat, all cozy, getting out your latest gossip mag or your novel of choice, and some big mama comes making her way down the aisle, hitting every aisle seat with her bag, only to turn to apologize, meanwhile whacking the person across the way while apologizing. And of course, she decides to settle in the row behind you with her gang in tow. Have it be known that if I were a solo traveler, I'd be rolling my eyes at this point. Now that small detail aside, this whole traveling alone act, that makes me eligible for some kind of sparkly star. Or it makes me eligible to be declared legally dumb.  Let's be honest, I was in the position to be in a pickle from the get go. On-lookers were probably looking at me shaking their head either in disgust or pity. Any misstep would have validated their unspoken judgement that I was cra cra and should have never attempted this act. And I wouldn't have argued.

Me and the traveling crew

Fortunate for me, the flight was uneventful. Kids were behaved, no one {i.e.: Big Papa Deetz} was screaming, nothing was spilled. Or thrown. Or spit. In fact, Dallin had even fallen asleep. The announcement for the final descent came over the intercom and notable turbulence set in. It was a bit of a wobbly landing, waking Dallin from his peaceful snooze. We all went into the unbuckling, find your crap, get out of your seat and stand up procedure. Dallin was slow and looking a little bit dazed. When I asked him if he was ok, he said he thought so. A bumpy, unexpected roller-coaster ride will yank total security from anyone. So while he didn't offer a solid answer, it was good enough. 

We started down the aisle, a baby on my hip and the little ducks following behind me. Dallin called my name and somehow I knew exactly what was going on. Call it motherly instinct, call it being psychic, call it every passengers' prayer being answered...call it what you want, but I answered the call in emergency mode before any emergency was declared. I turned around and calmly asked the lady behind me if she wouldn't mind taking little Deeter into her arms for one brief moment. I demanded a bag from the flight attendant doing his ritual clean up of seats two aisles in front of me. I turned around to Dallin B while simultaneously opening it up just in time... to provide a contained landing place for Dallin's timely vomit. This all happened in a matter of 7 seconds. 

Yes, people, you are hearing this right! Somehow, with nothing more than the call of my name, I was able to ditch a baby, fetch a bag and catch throw-up like a choreographed movie scene. But make no mistake that this was completely impromptu. I'm playing it selfish this time and claiming all...yes, ALL...of the credit. 

With the business taken care of, I tied the bag, returned it the flight attendant, took my baby back, and continued right on off that airplane. Not a single lost chunk, no lingering stench, no tears, no screams, no panic.

Seriously...

feel free to applaud in this very moment.

I know I usually share the moments in motherhood where I look like an absolute idiot. But truth be told, I also have some moments where I'm praying I'm on "Candid Camera" because I just pulled some whack trick out of thin air that made me look like super mom. 

If you did happen to catch that on tape, hook a mama up and get that spinning on You Tube!