Adventures of the Erwins: The Questionably Great Chicago Trip of 2013

I was ready. This was going to be my first solo flying effort with Annie. We were super-organized. We had packed all our clothes into Rick's backpack and my diaper bag. Zero excess. No checking bags here. No siree. Not when I had to get the babe on the train post-flight and walk half a mile to the hotel. This was the Ironman of our traveling experiences. I was pumped. And terrified.

By the time we got through security, I was sweating and seriously hating my decision to try to look like a "cute Mom" in my tight wool sweater, skinny jeans and tall boots. We made it through without incident but I could tell we were getting some looks. Then annie took off on me while I was putting my boots back on so I had to chase her around in my socks (that were pulled up over the cuffs of my skinny jeans, natch) all over the airport. That was humbling. But we got it together and after what seemed like 100 years they called our flight to board. Somehow, whatever paper work we had for Annie, that got us through security, was not sufficient to board the plane and I had to get out of line to board and go talk to the ticketing agent. Now, mind you, I had already folded up the stroller, which I was somehow carrying with three fingers, while holding the tray for it with the other two, my purse across my chest, diaper bag (bulging with crap for three people) over my shoulder, and other hand in hand with Annie's. I had already calculated that I could only sustain this level of effort the time it would take me to get down the jetway so to say this was a setback is a bit of an understatement.

But Cute Mom is only to be outshone by "I Have My Shiz Together Mom", so I briefly berated the guy taking the tickets, and shuffled away with Annie towards the ticketing counter. Annie really rubbed it in that guy's face because she totally melted down screaming "that way!!!! AIWWWPANE!" when she realized we weren't getting on the plane. I stopped, looked down at her, pointed to "the guy" and said "That man won't let us". And we moved on. Ultimately, we got on the plane and arrived in Chicago without incident. And I didn't cry. Much.

The train from the airport to the hotel was a huge hit, though Annie wanted out of her stroller the whole time.

After naps, we met up with Godparents Matt and Stephanie before their big date night. Rick met up with us at the restaurant and we had a great time catching up. Annie was a bit out of sorts and cranky but I just attributed that to her being wiped out from the travel and a new setting.

I was wrong.

We woke up at 2:30 am to coughing. Annie had spit up a bit of her dinner (which was 85% pickles). No big deal. Rick cleaned up the little pickle chunks and all went back to bed. 15 minutes later...a larger volume of pickle chunks. At this point we were being optimistic that maybe she just OD-ed on pickles and surely it wouldn't be a stomach bug. 20 minutes later...pickles and fruit. And tater tots. And everything else.

And so it went. Rick had to go to an auction for work so he left around 9. I originally was distraught about having all of this go down at a hotel, but then I realized....I AM IN A HOTEL! I can get all the clean sheets and towels I want. And I don't have to wash them! We took full advantage of this, covering all surfaces with towels and sheets, and then ordering new ones as needed. There was a bowl in the kitchen that should have been put to death after all it went through, but we had anti-bacterial wipes and washed it thoroughly so I am sure the next person will be fine. If you hear about an outbreak of stomach flu at a Residence Inn in chicago....you know nothing.

Annie napped in between vomits.

This pillow should probably also be burned.

We had a break in the barfing at around 9:30, so I felt safe letting her lay on me. Plus, I learned her pre-barf noises so I could get the "bowl of doom" if needed.

After about an hour and a half of puke free time, I let her have some more water. Apparently she was parched because she took down this entire bottle in no time. I was apparently feeling optimistic that the worst was behind us because I let this happen.

See, she even looked better.

But then, there was a burp. And a spray of water-vomit that coated everything in a 10 foot radius. Including me. Did I mention we had zero wiggle room in our vacation wardrobe? That means, when the only clothes you have that aren't skinny jeans and one of two wool sweaters gets puked on, you have to do laundry at the hotel.

So once I was sure the puking had stopped, we did laundry. Annie loved it. There is probably about $6 in extra change in each machine up there thanks to her.

And Mommy almost left poor Whammy #3 in the washer drum. Then we would be down to two in our possession, which would be dire (one has been left at a friend's house and I am basically leaving it there for safe keeping; no pressure Amanda).

Puking stopped for a few hours, appetite had returned and I don't learn any lessons from previous experiences because my fear of her dehydrating overshadowed my fear of her puking. It was, after all, just a hotel.

But there was no more puke.

Certain that I was next in line for this lovely gift, I stuffed my face with Giordano's pizza, secure in the knowledge that the calories wouldn't count and I would be seeing this pizza again in a few hours.

That didn't happen either. Shows you what I know.