Lucidia Lohman

On Travel and Sniffles

A month and some odd days have passed since we last updated your blog, and, boy, did we have quite a time! Between multiple playdates (of sorts) with an old friend that led to a new level in cuteness, to a harried but fulfilling visit to your extended family in Pennsylvania for the holidays, to the double ear infection (which has all but healed) and case of asthmatic bronchitis (mama–and pregnazone and ambuterol–said “knock you [the infection] out!”) that made this past week a largely sleepless and groggy one that we don’t want to repeat any time soon (except tonight, as you noshed some horseradish-less super duper mac ‘n cheese and oh-so-cutely squealed as you knocked over the tower that I built in your honor with your new alphabet blocks).

We’ve learned some important lessons in the last month. First, the concept that babies are largely uninterested in social play until somewhere around 2-3 years is complete bull hockey. Your mutual birthday celebration with the dapper Mr. Silas (and the follow-up get-together to celebrate the New Year) was the stuff that abject sweetness wrapped in a candy coating of adorability is made of. Hands were held, cake was shared, toys were universally battered and drooled upon, and smiles were plentiful–on both occasions. Your mom and I were glad to catch up with Silas’ mommy, who now lives in San Francisco–near the great state of Los Angeles (which may be near the country of London–locales known only to Spartanburgers)–and wish that his daddy could have been there to share in the fun! But the events completely hinged on the two-person wrecking crew of abominable cuteness that was Lulu and Silas.

Second, we learned that the tranquil experiences at 2, 5, and 7 months involving air travel have no long-term sticking power (no credit for time served), and that–in general–airplanes and one-year-olds are to be kept as far from one another as possible. Whether whining, attempting to decapitate the traveler in front of you with a drool-soaked SkyMall, or mushing goldfish crackers into every orifice, nook, and cranny within reach, the trip to Pennsylvania was one to remember. At least your yelps, spaghetti impersonations, and general distaste for anything NOT connected to the plastic up-down-up-down-up-down window shade didn’t prompt any visible “I’m'a gonna kill ‘dat ‘dare kidd” looks from our slack-jawed fellow travelers. And this was all before we had to *sprint* through the terminal in Detroit (oh, a sort of 2.a in “things we’ve learned”: ALWAYS TAKE A DIRECT FLIGHT… connections are hell), where the ever-loving handlers forgot to honor our luggage’s wishes to remain as a triumvirate (which we learned when we landed at PHL). The return trip was not nearly as bad (probably because you’d been force-fed Dimeatapp all week), but “the education of Mommy and Daddy” will have a lasting impact on travel arrangements in the future!

Third, ear infections are still hogwash, especially when they make you shimmy and shake at 2AM, refuse even a modest meal or portion of juice, impersonate a zombie at daycare (and the aforementioned spaghetti at 2AM when we try to comfort you). However, no ear infection you have had (4 and counting in the last 8 months–two shy of the 6 needed to count as “chronic”) has been as dastardly as this one, which not only hijacked our happy baby as she was on the verge of developmental milestones (the first tentative steps were RIGHT THERE), but obliged the hitchhiking throat infection looking for a companion. After a seeming cocktail of medication (antibiotics, steroid, etc., etc., etc.), you’re starting to come around. But, yeah, ear infections are hogwash.

To only pick three lessons is to not quite do justice to your educational aptitude, but to fill one blog post with so many nuggets of Lulu-inspired wisdom is bad for S.E.O. (and my eyes are sagging somewhat–OK, OK… the NFC Championship game is on). More is certainly to come (perhaps your mom can chime in with some insights from the past month), but, for now, you’re sleeping snugly with your froggies and duckies, clothed in both footie pajamas and a haze of medicine-tinged vapor and the muffled tick-tock of the froggie clock that I still haven’t hung back up. Gotta add that to my to-do list (along with the drawer locks that didn’t get installed this weekend… D’oh!).

Love you kiddo!

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