Sojourns

Last weekend, we traveled to Ohio for a reception honoring Sam's mentor from OSU, and a visit to the Hamil-tucky relations (Hamilton, Ohio, being populated densely by emigrants from nearby Kintuck).  Sam had contributed an essay to a collection published in honor of his professor, and he was one of the former students speaking at the reception. 

With all the pomp and circumstance, it didn't sound like an event for babies.  So instead, Allison Clare and I had our own little adventure at Easton Town Center, one of those new shopping/restaurant districts.  It's set up like a city, and it's big enough for multiple Starbucks and even other retailers in duplicates.  I made a pilgrimage to the Cheesecake Factory for the shrimp and bacon club with special sauce (purports to be grilled, but has got to be practically deep-fried in butter), where AC sat in the booth corner cuddled next to me, cheerily amusing herself with the spoon the entire time.

All of that angelic behavior was maybe to throw us off the track of her plans for what will surely go down as one of the most harrowing nights of her infant year.   We had rented a hotel room right there in the middle of the "town," so we had a place to crash at AC's early bedtime (thanks, Yolanda, for your blog post on traveling with Lydia--based on your experience, we made sure to get a room with a bedroom door that closed and a separate sitting area).  After she was in bed, we ordered really good Chinese food and enjoyed the evening talking, reading magazines, and working on Sam's sabbatical proposal.

At about 9:30, she started wailing.  We were able to settle her down, but it happened again--she seemed to be scared and upset waking up in a new place. So eventually, when we went to bed, we pulled all the pillows off and brought her to bed with us, something we could never bring ourselves to do when she was smaller (I don't know if I would have rolled over on her, but I could easily have seen myself pulling a blanket over her head or something).  

She was so excited at this treat that she giggled and rolled around between us, pulling Sam's hair and reaching for my face while we tried to sleep.  Finally, Sam gave up and got up, and I continued trying to get her to sleep. She would start to fall asleep, then wake up with a shriek . . . it happened over and over again, every 10 minutes or so, until about 1:30.  I was almost unbearably stressed by the end because I was so worried about her keeping other people awake, if there was anyone next door.  We had frantic, hushed negotiations--should we take her out in the car? drive home? wake his parents and drive down to Hamilton?  She finally fell asleep for a few hours, and when she awoke after that I'd manage to quiet her down before she made any loud sounds.  

Naturally, in the morning, she was her cheery self, and her two zombie-like parents escorted her down to Hamilton, where she charmed her grandparents, aunt and uncle, and cousins. 

It's stories like this that make me want to respond (when people say, "And how's the baby?"), "She is great!  Her life is easy!  It's our lives that have gotten ridiculous."  ;)