Next to my trusty BOB stroller, the Baby Bjorn is my favourite accessory these days. I don't know who invented it (was it a dude named Bjorn?) but I would like to thank him or her for the hours of convenient baby carrying it has given me. I used it to haul Neal around until I was too pregnant with Ella to fit it around me - probably a good year longer than most people wear theirs. Likely, I will carry Ella in the Bjorn until she is old enough to be embarrassed to be seen in it. In sum, I would be lost without my Bjorn....
So, the night I almost lost my beloved baby carrier is one I won't soon forget. After spending a fabulous month in the Promised Land (aka Halifax in September), it was time to return to Calgary. Neal was almost 6 months old, and Morley, our fur baby, had joined us on the trip. Anyone who tells you that travelling by yourself with an infant and a hyper labradoodle is easy is either a martyr or a fraud. We had no issues flying to Halifax, but I wasn't going to admit the simplicity of it all until we were back in Calgary, unscathed. So, lying in bed at my sister's house the night before our return, I was visualizing the controlled chaos that would ensue the next morning. I live by the mantra that "it's all about perspective". I knew things might be a little hairy, but as long as I didn't have high expectations, as long as I remembered that it was only ONE day's worth of travelling Hell, things would be okay.
Right. At two o'clock in the morning I awoke with a start. Our flight was in 3 hours and I had the feeling that I'd forgotten to pack something important. Neal was sleeping soundly beside me in the playpen, so I creeped silently passed him to the suitcase and quickly scanned its contents. Everything looked in order. I went back to bed.
1 hr. and 45 min. later, panic threw me out of my sleep. The Baby Bjorn! It wasn't at my sister's house. I knew where it was though. It was in my Mother's car trunk, 30 mins. away. Cursing myself, I mentally ran through all the possible solutions. 1) Go back to sleep and have Mom mail the bloody thing express post back to Calgary. 2) Steal my sisters SUV and go back to Halifax to retrieve it. That would take an hour, round trip, and it would be tight. I still had to dress and feed the kid (and myself), and walk the dog before we left for the airport. Hmm. Can you guess what curse words were going through my mind?
Well, I contemplated the first idea. I could carry my 20 lbs baby boy with my bare hands and manage my "crate hating" 61 lbs dog simultaneously.
NO I COULDN'T!!! Suddenly all that Zen and perspective I'm known for went out the window. There was no other choice. I had to get that Baby Bjorn back! Glancing at Neal slumbering peacefully, I knew that I had to leave him and run the risk that he might awaken during the time I was gone...actually who was I kidding? It was a foregone conclusion that he would wake during the time I was gone. I had to tell my sister and brother-in-law of my tool-ed mistake. So, to their room I went.
My sister Diana will tell you that she is a light sleeper. I believe she once told me that the sound of moth wings flapping could wake her. My brother-in-law, Gordie rarely finds the time to sleep. He is one of the busiest dudes I know. I'm guessing that when he does find the time to sleep, he does it soundly.
I gingerly opened the door to their room and expected Diana to sit up right away. I whispered her name. Nothing. I whispered his name. Nothing. I went over and prodded Diana gently. "mnph" was her response. Good, we were getting somewhere. "Diana, I need to borrow your car keys, where are they?" Nothing. I said it again and got the same answer. I glanced at my watch and realized we were losing precious time. I had to stop pussyfooting around. "Diana, I'm leaving. Please take care of Neal." That got a response.
Two dead to the world bodies sprang to life, literally flinging themselves off the bed. Two heads spun in my direction. Two sets of eyes that, seconds ago were firmly fastened, popped open wide and stared at me, confused. "WHAT?"
I explained my situation and they were relieved that I wasn't suffering from some perverse post-partum breakdown. I was not LEAVING my child with them indefinitely.
Before I finished asking again for their car keys, Gordie was already dressed. "Go back to bed. I'm on it" he said. Gordie, who had only just gotten to sleep after a long day at work, was saving my arse for the umpteenth time. The year before he had courageously driven me to New Brunswick in a blizzard so I could catch a flight. My brother-in-law rocks.
Gordie has been a part of my life since I was 5 years old, so he may as well be my brother. He is the funniest, most dedicated and hardworking person I know. His sense of honour and duty knows no bounds. I love that guy like a brother.
So, the night I almost lost my beloved baby carrier is one I won't soon forget. After spending a fabulous month in the Promised Land (aka Halifax in September), it was time to return to Calgary. Neal was almost 6 months old, and Morley, our fur baby, had joined us on the trip. Anyone who tells you that travelling by yourself with an infant and a hyper labradoodle is easy is either a martyr or a fraud. We had no issues flying to Halifax, but I wasn't going to admit the simplicity of it all until we were back in Calgary, unscathed. So, lying in bed at my sister's house the night before our return, I was visualizing the controlled chaos that would ensue the next morning. I live by the mantra that "it's all about perspective". I knew things might be a little hairy, but as long as I didn't have high expectations, as long as I remembered that it was only ONE day's worth of travelling Hell, things would be okay.
Right. At two o'clock in the morning I awoke with a start. Our flight was in 3 hours and I had the feeling that I'd forgotten to pack something important. Neal was sleeping soundly beside me in the playpen, so I creeped silently passed him to the suitcase and quickly scanned its contents. Everything looked in order. I went back to bed.
1 hr. and 45 min. later, panic threw me out of my sleep. The Baby Bjorn! It wasn't at my sister's house. I knew where it was though. It was in my Mother's car trunk, 30 mins. away. Cursing myself, I mentally ran through all the possible solutions. 1) Go back to sleep and have Mom mail the bloody thing express post back to Calgary. 2) Steal my sisters SUV and go back to Halifax to retrieve it. That would take an hour, round trip, and it would be tight. I still had to dress and feed the kid (and myself), and walk the dog before we left for the airport. Hmm. Can you guess what curse words were going through my mind?
Well, I contemplated the first idea. I could carry my 20 lbs baby boy with my bare hands and manage my "crate hating" 61 lbs dog simultaneously.
NO I COULDN'T!!! Suddenly all that Zen and perspective I'm known for went out the window. There was no other choice. I had to get that Baby Bjorn back! Glancing at Neal slumbering peacefully, I knew that I had to leave him and run the risk that he might awaken during the time I was gone...actually who was I kidding? It was a foregone conclusion that he would wake during the time I was gone. I had to tell my sister and brother-in-law of my tool-ed mistake. So, to their room I went.
My sister Diana will tell you that she is a light sleeper. I believe she once told me that the sound of moth wings flapping could wake her. My brother-in-law, Gordie rarely finds the time to sleep. He is one of the busiest dudes I know. I'm guessing that when he does find the time to sleep, he does it soundly.
I gingerly opened the door to their room and expected Diana to sit up right away. I whispered her name. Nothing. I whispered his name. Nothing. I went over and prodded Diana gently. "mnph" was her response. Good, we were getting somewhere. "Diana, I need to borrow your car keys, where are they?" Nothing. I said it again and got the same answer. I glanced at my watch and realized we were losing precious time. I had to stop pussyfooting around. "Diana, I'm leaving. Please take care of Neal." That got a response.
Two dead to the world bodies sprang to life, literally flinging themselves off the bed. Two heads spun in my direction. Two sets of eyes that, seconds ago were firmly fastened, popped open wide and stared at me, confused. "WHAT?"
I explained my situation and they were relieved that I wasn't suffering from some perverse post-partum breakdown. I was not LEAVING my child with them indefinitely.
Before I finished asking again for their car keys, Gordie was already dressed. "Go back to bed. I'm on it" he said. Gordie, who had only just gotten to sleep after a long day at work, was saving my arse for the umpteenth time. The year before he had courageously driven me to New Brunswick in a blizzard so I could catch a flight. My brother-in-law rocks.
Gordie has been a part of my life since I was 5 years old, so he may as well be my brother. He is the funniest, most dedicated and hardworking person I know. His sense of honour and duty knows no bounds. I love that guy like a brother.
Today is his 44th birthday! Gordie, your support over the years has been as strong as my Baby Bjorn. Oh, I know that is cliché and a terrible ending, but the kids just woke and I've got to wrap this up.
Happy Birthday Buddy.
Happy Birthday Buddy.
Ha ha! That is awesome! I actually really like the Baby Bjorn-Gordie metaphor. I literally laughed out loud when you talked about them thinking you were leaving Neal with them forever :).
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