Port – a – volcano

We had grand plans of making her as mobile as possible. Angel on a plane? Absolutely. Ferry? No worries. Bus? Easy. Car? Not even a second thought.

Well. Some new parents assume they will have well behaved children 24 x7. I was never that naïve. 

When we had Little Miss, I was determined that our travels and adventures would continue. She was going to be the well-travelled, adventure filled child known.

Sure the type of adventure would change. I knew we wouldn’t be able to take Little Miss to Paris to an all-night cabaret, or clubbing in Ibitha for two solid days – but I was looking forward to releasing the inner child.

I couldn’t wait to go to Ireland in search of a leprechaun, go to the Scottish Highlands in search of the Loch Ness Monster, or North America to see Big Foot.

The highlight for me would be a sleep over in the Natural History Museum in Washington. The introduction text on their website still makes shiver with excitement… ‘A night of adventure awaits you as you enter the Smithsonian's National Museum of Natural History, just as the doors are closing, the lights dim, and the crowds shuffle out..’

I was even looking forward to her having a meltdown in the Louvre ‘Please mummy, not the Mona Lisa again, we’ve seen her so so many times!’

All that adventure and travel planned for Little Miss, who could fly for free until she was 2, all out the window. She’s a puker.

On almost that moves.  Our adventures have ground to a halt, scrap that, our adventures haven’t even started..  

When we moved from London to Greece, she puked five times on the flight.  Once before take-off. Once after we landed, and three times during the flight.  For that flight ( had delays) she averaged on chucking up once an hour.  We’ve talked about flying home to Australia to visit family. A 20 or so hour flight means 20 outfit changes for me and her. I haven’t been able to find an airline willing to let us fly naked and which would agree to hose us down every hour.   No wonder airlines are going out of business. Surely we’re not the only couple with a puker?

We haven’t bought a car. Pointless, it wouldn’t go anywhere.

We speak in code when on the rare occasion we use public transport or a taxi. ‘She’s gonna blow’ I whisper frantically - trying to unravel the plastic bag scrunched up in my lap, while opening the window as wide as possible turning Little Miss into a contortionist so that she aims her vomit (hopefully projectile) out the moving vehicle.  Mr. Right not so gracefully reaches for the wet wipes in my coat pocket and tissues in the other.

We don’t look too odd.  We’ve taken to putting Little Miss in a plastic painting smock when we get in a car or bus. If anyone asks, we pretend she has insisted on wearing it. This saves me from changing her and carrying around vomit stained clothes all day. The smock goes in the bin (ok not particularly environmental I know but for now it’s my only solution).

The baby (I will find a better description of her someday) is the opposite. Put her on a roller coaster and she will smile and gurgle the entire way. So, we have the baby waiting to travel, and the one that screams ‘STOP’ when she is the backseat of a car, and the engine is off.

We’re hoping she will grow out if it… she’s nearly three now and isn’t showing any signs of stopping her spontaneous eruption during motion.  I am terrified we’ll be confined to our area only. I have explored every inch of it already. There are no museums, art galleries or leprechauns. It’s now winter so too cold to go in search of the fairies at the end of the garden.

We’ve started to talk about our lost adventures in the hope that Little Miss exerts mind over motion and guilts herself into keeping it all down until we get out of the car, plane, train, bus.  Fingers crossed this works. The money we’ve saved on lack of travel – will be spent on counseling if it doesn’t. 

This blog forms part of Lisa Lintern's 30 day blogging challenge. Read Melodramatic Me for more information.