This may sound weird, but many times I tend to look back with perverse pleasure on experiences which pull me down and put me firmly in my place. A little humbling is always a good thing I guess.
So shortly after I shared my lists and was all preachy about being organised etc etc – it took no time at all for lightning to strike – and that too when I was at my hapless best on our flight back from Bangkok to Bangalore.Things fell apart spectacularly – because I was thoroughly dis-organised. Yes, in spite of all the lists 🙂
On the penultimate day of our vacation, I always take out a suitable set of clothes for the kids to travel in before we pack our suitcases (the husband does the packing). This time I forgot, Rohaan finished the packing, and the kids – especially Laila – were eventually travelling in most unsuitable stuff. The only clean thing that I could find (without having to take everything out) was a sleeveless dress, that too without a panty. So there she was – bare-legged and diapered, with a flimsy jacket for company.
Five minutes into the flight, I heard the two words I hate hearing anywhere outside of home – ‘potty’s coming’.
Ishaan and I toodled off to the 25 sq ft of bathroom space the aircraft offers and while he chatted pleasantly about what he wants for his birthday (a never ending saga), I was busy trying to fill water from the most impossibly positioned tap into an empty water bottle we managed to fish out from somewhere – so that I could wash his bottom.
That done, I retired to my book for a while, only to be informed by a panicky husband that Laila has done potty – and the diaper has sprung a leak. Now in spite of all my planning (or maybe becoz of it!) I had just put her in the last diaper I had left with me, half an hour ago. Thankfully her clothes were not soiled (as an extra set of clothes were out of the question), but I was still short of a nappy.
Bottom washed (and now bare) I left her on the seat and checked with the airhostess for a diaper. They didn’t have one of course. I desperately suggested hunting down all mothers of small children in the plane and begging for a diaper – but apparently there were no young children on the flight! I set off anyway and luckily found another hostess who had one stashed away somewhere.
Now did I forget to mention that while all this was happening, Offspring No. 1 decided to feel all vomity and was clutching his throat and crying hysterically between trips to the bathroom and back. The husband asked for the handy ear-drops I always carry to offset blocked ears and the like. I recalled last seeing it safely tucked away in my suitcase.
We argued, Ishaan cried, the flight hit every air pocket it could find – you get the drift.
I have now resolved to pack a ‘return journey’ bag in advance and throw it into my suitcase, so that I can pull it out on our last day and have everything I need at my disposal. No more hunting for stuff I have buried somewhere in the suitcase or put away in one of those mysterious hotel drawers, never to be found again.
Now if only I can remember that I have packed one such bag in the first place, I’m sorted.