Five Minute Friday - Still

Each week, The Gypsy Mama hosts Five Minute Friday.  

It's a chance to pour out our thoughts into a post without over-thinking, without worrying about grammar, spelling, or proper sentence construction (am I the only one who always worries about that?).  

It's a time to take a prompt and dive deep into our souls and share our hearts. 

Only five minutes to write and try to convey a small piece of truth straight from the heart to the keyboard and then to the readers.

For me, it's like letting you see me just as I've crawled out of bed.

Raw.  Untouched.  Real.

And vulnerable.

This week's prompt is:  Still....

I still can't believe this was you.

This beautiful little baby.  Tiny and new.  You smelled better than anything in this world.  Your skin was so soft and velvety, and I couldn't help but kiss you again and again.  You cried a lot and never let me put you down. 

I still wonder why I sometimes longed to put you down.

Now I want to hold that little baby forever.  I wish I could go back in time and hold her once again. 

I still can't believe how quickly time passed.

I still can't believe that small baby is now a little girl.

I still can't believe time can pass that quickly.  How does time move  so very fast?  And why can't I slow it down, just for a day?

You filled me with awe and amazement the day you were born.

And you still fill me with awe and amazement each day, as you grow into a little girl.  Independent.  Sweet.  Funny.  Smart.  Kind.  Curious. 

I still don't understand where 23 months and 13 days went.

But I have loved and cherished every minute.  And I still do, every single day.

Wordless Wednesday - Naptime

Sound asleep at five o'clock in the afternoon.  Wonder what will wake her up? 

"Paityn, want some grapes?" 

Linking up with these wonderful blogs:  

Mom Start 

5 Minutes for Mom
Girl Talk

Wordless Wednesday
Raising My Boys
Angry Julie Monday

 

Five Minute Friday - Full

Every week, The Gypsy Mama hosts Five Minute Friday. The rules are simple: a prompt is given, then bloggers write for five minutes about that prompt, no editing, click post, and link up.

I've been participating in Five Minute Friday since I started this blog, and I find it to be one of my favorite posts of the week.  It's amazing how a single word can inspire me so much.

This week's prompt: Full...

My life is so full.  

I have a wonderful husband, and our six year anniversary is just around the corner.  My beautiful daughter is healthy, smart, and just about to turn two years old.  I couldn't ask for more than what we have together, the three of us.  It's a beautiful life, full of love, laughter, and joy.

This week's prompt stirred my conscience.  In the fullness of my own life, it's easy to overlook the emptiness that exists for so many others.

Yesterday, I read an article describing the terrible drought in the Horn of Africa (Kenya, Somalia, Ethiopia).  Two rainy seasons have passed with no rain, leaving millions of people starving, thristy, and homeless. 

Their stories broke my heart.

Their cups are empty while mine overflows.  

My heart truly wept for these people.  I offered up a prayer,  raged internally about the US's lack of assistance in Africa, then clicked back to read another review of the new Harry Potter movie.  

The plight of thousands was forgotten that quickly, that easily.  With a simple click, I put the matter from my mind.

It was far too easy for me to forget.  Too easy to feel momentary pangs of empathy, then move on with my own life.  Too easy to forget that real people are suffering: real children, just like Paityn; real mothers, just like me; real families, just like mine.

That is not why blessings are poured out upon us- to become so caught up in the fullness of our own lives that we ignore the plight of others.

"Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." (Luke 6:38)

And yet I didn't.

A life of fullness is empty when it is not shared. 

I looked at these faces, felt deep compassion, yet took no action.

Picture courtesy of MercyCorps

Compassion is meaningless when it lacks action.

My conscience wasn't simply pricked by today's writing prompt; it was hit by a 2x4. 

I returned to the article, and with a few simple clicks, was able to find the associated charity.  

And I emptied a small amount from my full cup into another's empty cup, together with a prayer that theirs will soon be filled to overflowing, thankfulness for my own abundant life, and humbly asking that I never forget in the richness of my blessings to do more than simply extend a moment of compassion when it is in my power to take even the smallest of actions.

From the MercyCorps website:

"East Africa's worst drought in 60 years is threatening more than 10 million people with failed farms, displacement and starvation. Mercy Corps is on the ground in Ethiopia, Kenya and Somalia, delivering lifesaving aid to families struggling to survive."

MercyCorps has been assisting people in 36 countries since 1979.  I investigated their finances prior to my donation.  Over the last five years, 88% of their resources were used for actual programs that benefit the people they serve.

To read more about "drought widows" and the crisis facing the people in Ethiopia, Somalia and Kenya, please take the time to visit this blog.

Wordless Wednesday - Who could resist a face like that?

Oh, pretty, pretty please, Uncle Melvin?

 

Who could resist?  Not Uncle Melvin!

Linking up with these wonderful blogs:  

Mom Start 

5 Minutes for Mom
Girl Talk

Wordless Wednesday
Raising My Boys
Angry Julie Monday

Top Ten Reasons Why I Still (Yes, Still) Nurse my Toddler

 

My idea for this week’s top ten was inspired by an article on a new doll.  (See the full article here.  And please note that this is probably the only time I will source Fox News, and it’s apropos that it’s an article that angers me.)  

It's an old article, but it was just brought to my attention.

A European manufacturer created a doll specifically for breastfeeding.  This is apparently extremely upsetting to some people.

I was very angry by what the article insinuated about breastfeeding and exposing young children to it.  They made it out as though it is an “adult” activity, not suited for young children.

Which led me to wonder if they realize what breastfeeding is?  I'll key you in- it actually requires a young child for it to work.

Many people get a little squirmy over breastfeeding.   

I always want to ask them if they realize the milk for their cereal is just cow breastmilk?

Even more get squirmy over the idea of nursing a toddler.  I’ve been the recipient of many odd looks when I say I’m “still” nursing Paityn.  And I think that it is this discomfort that gave birth to this “news” article and people’s discomfort with a toy.

There’s nothing wrong with deciding not to breastfeed.  I certainly do not think that choosing to use formula is wrong.  Paityn was fed some formula in her first year as I couldn’t pump enough.  But, equally, there is nothing disgusting or perverse about choosing to breastfeed.

Giving me the idea for this week’s top ten:

Top Ten Reasons I Still (Yes, Still) Nurse my Toddler

10.  Paityn benefits nutritionally.  As good of an eater as she is, there are some days where she has little interest in eating anything besides fruit and toast.  

In the second year (12-23 months), 448 mL (about 1 ¾ cups) of breastmilk provides:

·       29% of energy requirements

·       43% of protein requirements

·       36% of calcium requirements

·       75% of vitamin A requirements

·       76% of folate requirements

·       94% of vitamin B12 requirements

·       60% of vitamin C requirements

(Dewey 2001) 

9.  Paityn gets sick very infrequently, and I do believe it’s directly related to nursing (a conclusion supported by many studies).  And when I am sick with the same illness as her, it lasts a very short duration for her.  She has the benefit of receiving my antibodies and continued immune factors (which some studies have shown actually increase in the second year).

8.  It’s healthy for me.

For mothers, breastfeeding reduces the risk of ovarian, breast, endometrial, and uterine cancers, among other health benefits.  It decreases the risks of osteoporosis and rheumatoid arthritis.

7.  Being a toddler can be tough.  

 It’s full of developmental changes, growth spurts, emotional changes and increased independence.  Nursing provides a continued, secure, and familiar connection with me for Paityn. 

Paityn has no “lovey” like a blanket, a special toy, or a pacifier.  She turns completely to me for comfort and security.

6.  It helps Paityn's growth into independence.

Studies show "there are statistically significant tendencies for conduct disorder scores to decline with increasing duration of breastfeeding."

Elizabeth Baldwin sums up the psychological and developmental findings in “Extended Breastfeeding and the Law” as follows:

"Meeting a child's dependency needs is the key to helping that child achieve independence. And children outgrow these needs according to their own unique timetable. Children who achieve independence at their own pace are more secure in that independence then children forced into independence prematurely."

5.  It’s a personal decision.

Breastfeeding is a very personal decision.  Making that decision out of guilt or pressure isn’t healthy. 

It’s equally unhealthy for me to refuse my daughter comfort and nutrition because of societal hang-ups.

Mothers make decisions all the time: to breastfeed or not, and if so, how long; to work or stay home; to homeschool or public school.  The majority of mothers are making the best decisions they can for their family.

4.  It provides valuable nutrition when Paityn does get sick.

Several weeks ago, Paityn was sick and had no interest in drinking or eating.   Did you ever try to force liquids into a stubborn and sick child?  But she would nurse, so I didn’t have to try to get her to eat solids or drink.

3.  It helps Paityn emotionally.  When she gets hurt, upset, or sick, nursing provides comfort beyond a hug or a kiss.

According to Elizabeth Baldwin in "Extended Breastfeeding and the Law":

"…nursing past infancy helps little ones make a gradual transition to childhood."

2.  Paityn doesn’t want to stop and is quite attached to her na-nas.

Establishing nursing was difficult for us. I spent a year pumping at work.  I spent months nursing through the night, through teething, through developmental milestones.  We have bonded over nursing. 

Why would I destroy those months and years of work by forcing her to stop when she clearly is not yet ready?  To bend to societal pressure?  

I’m afraid I’ve never been a very good conformist.

1.  It’s completely natural and normal, especially in European countries, to extend nursing beyond the first year. 

I truly feel American society has far too many hangups due to our over-sexualization of women.  Somehow, breastfeeding, since it involves the breasts (gasp!), got lumped into the “sex” category, and so becomes something almost perverse, especially when it involves any child able to verbally ask for it. 

As mammals, we are equipped with mammary glands to provide milk to our young.  There’s nothing gross or weird or crazy about it.  And teaching our children, both boys and girls, that it is a natural and acceptable way of feeding babies is completely appropriate.

Even if you don’t like the doll.

References:

Dewey KG, Finley DA, Lonnerdal B. Breast milk volume and composition during late lactation (7-20 months). J Pediatr Gastroenterol Nutr 1984 Nov;3(5):713-20.

Goldman AS, Goldblum RM, Garza C. Immunologic components in human milk during the second year of lactation. Acta Paediatr Scand. 1983 May;72(3):461-2.

Baldwin, EN. Extended Breastfeeding and the Law. Mothering 1993 (Spring);66:88.

Taking a stab at Movie Critic - Review of the movie Winnie the Pooh

I love going to the movies.  I still remember the very fist movie I saw- E.T.  For me, there's something very summery about going to the movie theater.  My best friend and I used to always go in the summer because it was guaranteed to be cooler in the theater than it was at our houses.

So I was eager to share this experience with my daughter when we saw previews for the new Winnie the Pooh movie on the Disney channel.  She seemed drawn to it, and I fully admit I wanted to see it.  Still, I hesitated, wondering if she was old enough.

We decided to take the plunge on Saturday.  I channeled my mom, popped us some popcorn, and stuffed it into my purse.  My popcorn tastes way better than the fake movie theater stuff, and I don't  have to hand over a chunk of my retirement fund to the moody 16 year old at the concession stand.

We made it just in time for the previews (note: Puss in Boots looks hysterical and Dolphin Tale looks moving and very sweet).  Paityn was transfixed, staring at the screen and not moving a muscle.

As you can see, her own Pooh came with us to watch his turn on the silver screen.  

At just over an hour, the movie is perfectly timed.  Long enough for a good story, but not so long as to have the entire preschooler set running berserk around the theater before it ends.  Paityn sat still for almost the entire movie, only getting ancy for the last 20 minutes or so and having to leave for a few minutes.  She ended up watching the end from the steps.

The movie is very reminiscent of the older Pooh movies.  Traditional hand-drawn animation isn't even used anymore for most television cartoons, let alone movies. My understanding is that this movie was entirely hand drawn.  The beautiful watercolor backgrounds immediately reminded me of E.H. Shepherd's timeless illustrations.  The characters, especially Christopher Robin, look a little different than I remembered them, but I'm was relieved they were not soulless, computer animated robots.

Picture courtesy of Walt Disney Studios

I loved how they mimicked the older movies by including the characters interacting with the narrator and sometimes even the typed words.

Picture courtesy of Walt Disney Studios

The story opens with Pooh awakening and finding all his honey jars empty.  This is the stuff of Pooh nightmares (I think I saw our own Pooh shuddering at the horror of such a predicament) and he spends the movie trying to beg, borrow, or find some honey.  

One rather amusing subplot is Eeyore's lost tail.  I love Eeyore.  I love that in a kid's movie, he's able to be his depressing little self with no talk of how he should be on pills, should cheer up, or needs to visit a therapist.  I think Eeyore represents a side of all of us, and it's important for children to recognize that it's ok to be down in the dumps sometimes.  

There's a funny contest to find a new tail for Eeyore that is cute and shows what a good sport he really is.  

Picture courtesy of Walt Disney Studios

The more involved part of the story is based on a misunderstanding, produced by no other than the wise Owl.  He seems to be always misunderstanding something.  It leads the group to set out to capture a "Backson" and try to rescue Christopher Robin.  

My least favorite part, as in the old Pooh movies, was the song sequences that involve some dramatic animation.  I fail to see what they add to the movie, and when I was little, they made me feel funny.  Twenty-five years later, I still don't like the odd musical sequences.  I do, however, like Zooey Deschanel's song at the end of the movie. 

Overall, the movie was sweet and funny.  You can't help loving the characters, and the stories are familiar to those of us who love(d) the books. I felt like I was six again, and I loved watching my daughter experience the same beautiful and winsome Pooh I had loved when I really was six.

Winnie the Pooh

Rated G

65 Minutes

3 1/2 stars out of 4

Going back home... and leaving home behind

Why can't we get all the people together in the world that 
we really like and then just stay together? 

I guess that wouldn't work. 

Someone would leave.  Someone always leaves. 

Then we would have to say good-bye. 

I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos.  

~ Charles M. Schulz

Last week, I went back to my hometown.  

Back to where I grew up.  Where friends still remain to welcome me with open arms and a guest bedroom.  Where a ten-car traffic jam is caused by a tractor.  Where thunderstorms roll in with no warning, and end just as suddenly, chirping birds replacing the cracking thunder. 

A place where my daughter plays in a cornbox instead of  a sandbox.

A place with small-town fireworks displays you watch from the side of the highway. 

A place where P can play in the park I frequented for elementary school gym classes with the very same friends we went back to visit.

It's still home.  But it's also not.  

It had been over two years since I had been back.  I had forgotten how hot and muggy it gets.  This adopted-Californian isn't used to humidity any longer.  Neither is my hair. 

I was starting to feel a little claustrophobic towards the end of the week, reminding me of why I longed to leave all those years ago.  I was ready to come back to my city. Ready to embrace the lights and the bustle and my own bed.

But one thing I savored and clung to and dreaded leaving... my friends and family.   Friends who really are my family. 

My one best friend has two children almost exactly the same age as Paityn; they are separated by mere months... and thousands of miles.
 

My daughter and her daughter share a middle name and two mamas who have known and loved each other for decades.  Seeing them together brought both joy and an aching sadness.  Watching her son and my daughter kiss and hug and play made me long to have it always that way.  Cousins, not by blood, but through a friendship that defies the traditional definition of family.

Our other two best friends, aunties to our babies, properly oohed and ahhed over every cute expression and funny phrase and filled up their cameras with picture after picture.

We've been friends since kindergarten, these women and I.   See that curly-haired one in the middle?  She and I have been  absolute best friends since before we could walk.  

Few relationships can endure the many changes our lives have brought to us, but they have only made the bonds of our friendship that much stronger.

If it wasn't enough to have three almost lifelong girlfriends, there's also my best friend who has been such a constant in my life we still can't quite recall when we first met.  He and I have a friendship that only gets stronger with each passing year, despite distance.  And my daughter adores him.

Our ambitions carry us away from the familiar.  We find new jobs, get married, start families, and lead our lives in the way that feels best.  

We meet new people, form new relationships, and lose track of old friends.  

My trip back to New York was nostalgic as I visited favorite old restaurants, drove through my old neighborhood, and relished the small town feeling that was so familiar.  

But more than that, it reminded me that I miss home not for the place, but for the people.  My friends.  Their presence is what I long for more than anything else; their absence is the source of my homesickness and longing for the familiar.

How wonderful it would be if we could wrap up those we love and carry them about with us as we chased our own dreams!   

I take comfort that those who truly love us are never far from us.  They remain with us, dear to us, and always a constant force in our lives.  No amount of distance or time spent away can alter the love between real friends.

They are the friends who will show up tomorrow if you need them.  Even if it means hopping a plane and flying 3,000 miles.  They are the friends who know, with a secure certainty, that I would do the same.

I'm so grateful to have four wonderful friends who, no matter where they or I live, will always be a piece of home for me.

Don't be dismayed at goodbyes, 

a farewell is necessary before you can meet again 

and meeting again, 

after moments or lifetimes, 

is certain for those who are friends.

~  Richard Bach

 

Five Minute Friday - Loss

This week, I am not confining myself to a five minute response to the prompt from The Gypsy Mama for Five Minute Friday, but I am still linking up and responding.  I would also like to warn my readers that the topic of this blog will deal with miscarriage.  I realize how deep the grief can be, and if you would like to back away from reading further, I understand.  

The Gypsy Mama's writing prompt this week is Loss.  Either it's entirely coincidental, or it's further silent urging for me to share my grief, something I have felt inclined to do but from which I have shied away. I believe it is the latter.

Angel of Grief statue in Italy

Three years ago, I was ten weeks pregnant with our first child.  

Exactly three years ago yesterday, we went to the doctor, and she joyfully confirmed our pregnancy and showed us our baby on the ultrasound.  There was a little blur on the screen, completely indistinct and only seen by me when she pointed it out (twice).  A tiny heart was flickering with life.

We held hands, laughing in awe and happiness.  It was a beautiful moment I have tucked away deep in my heart.

Then, she told me something that caused clouds to roll in and darken my joy.  The doctor told me the baby  measurements indicated I was six weeks along, and not ten, as I had calculated.  When I expressed my concern, she brushed me off, saying I must have figured it wrong.  I remained silent, but I worried because I knew I had not.

The next day, everything was all wrong.  My doctor was out, so I saw another doctor.  He brushed aside my concerns, saying if everything was fine yesterday, then my symptoms were likely nothing to be concerned about.

I cried the entire way home.  I will never forget that drive as long as I live.  Every moment is seared into my memory.  I knew the truth.  My baby had lived long enough to make me a mother with all the intuition and knowing that motherhood brings.

The grief of a miscarriage is often a hidden pain.  The world does not share in mourning a life that never was, a light gone too soon, a child lost before the parents could even meet her.  I had only known about my pregnancy for a month.  We had told very few people, so few people knew about our loss and the reason for our sadness. 

For me, the grief was too overwhelming to easily share with others distanced by the miles that separate me from family and close friends.  I felt their love and concern and prayers, and I'm forever grateful for them.  But I felt alone in my loss, made especially painful by the excruciatingly long and lingering physical process of miscarrying my baby.  

It's not easy for me to put words to my feelings except in writing, so I do not blame my loved ones for my feelings of isolation; they reached out to me with love and concern through those weeks.  I will never forget their outpouring of love.

For a mother, I feel that miscarriage carries too many emotions to be summed up by the simple word loss.  I felt sickened and pained by the physical process, betrayed by my own body, guilty that I had done something wrong, angry that this had happened to me, who had loved and longed for and wanted this baby.  

I felt... alone.  Even when I wasn't.  And from some people,  mostly doctors, well-meaning and truly sympathetic words only caused me further pain.

I was told not to worry, that there would be other babies.  I was told not to be sad, and that I would get pregnant again very soon.  I was told not to feel too bad, that likely my baby had had some deformity which had caused my body to reject her.

Grief is not soothed by platitudes.   It's similar to attending a funeral, and telling the mourning family, "At least she's in a better place."  In the fresh ache of loss, those words don't make anyone feel any better, regardless of if they are the truth.  And in my case, it was adding salt to a wound.

I wanted my baby with me. I wanted that baby, not another baby.  I would have loved my baby with any defect she had.  I raged against the injustice that took her from me.

Grief is not soothed by logic.  No amount of reasoning brought healing to my heart.  I'm a person who loves living by the rules, who embraces science and facts and realities.  These things do not bring solace to a grieving heart.

They say time heals all wounds.  I can't say that I have found that to be true in the case of  truly heartbreaking sorrows.  But, time does bring clarity to grief.  

My baby is in a better place.  I love to picture her in the arms of Jesus, her soul flying from the loving warmth of my womb to his gentle arms.  It was an image that I think put me on the first step towards healing. 

A piece of my heart is forever missing, flown away to heaven with my baby.  A broken heart is never quite whole again, but it does heal, it does scar over.  There are many others who have endured a pain far greater than my own and have come out on the other side scarred, but healing, and ready to move on with life.

Three years.  I whisper words to the child I never met but I feel I know.  I send hugs and kisses and love to the baby I still long to embrace.  She is as real to me as the child who lays sleeping peacefully, ready for me to cuddle next to her when I return to bed.

But for the moment, I sit with my loss in the comforting embrace of the night.  Daylight is unfriendly towards grief; sunshine and warmth seem incongruous with the ache of sadness.  In the dark, grief sits by me as a friend, acknowledging my right to shed tears and feel this ache in my heart.  So I embrace it.  No platitudes, no logic.  Just tears that bring healing.

Although I have not shared about my miscarriage with many people, aside from close friends and family, I have felt for some time that I would like to write about our loss.  I know how terrible the pain can be, and how alone one can feel.  

Miscarriage is something the majority of women experience as one in three pregnancies ends in miscarriage, but it is a loss only whispered about.  The pain and grief is made all the more difficult because of the lack of support.  I hope my words have brought even one person some measure of comfort in knowing her sadness, her grief, her pain, is shared and understood by others.

One year later: Letter to my little one waiting in heaven and Goodnight, my angel love

 

Not So Wordless Wednesday - Paityn Moments from Vacation

This past week, I took Paityn back to where I grew up, in a tiny town in the Finger Lakes Region of Upstate New York.  We visited with lifelong friends and went to a couple of my favorite places.

And we created moments that I will treasure forever as I showed my daughter my old home.

Paityn met Great Grandpa for the first time.  She was in his lap approximately 30 seconds after meeting him.  They shared several desserts and some serious cuddles.

Here we are at my Great Aunt's house on Cayuga Lake.  I grew up spending Fourth of July's here, swimming in the ice cold lake.  It took Paityn a lot of convincing to get in!

Four generations...

Paityn played in one of my favorite parks from when I was little.  Together with the very same friends we were visiting, I spent many hours there in elementary school.  The horse is painted a different color (or rather was, at some point), but it's the same old one!

There's nothing like raspberries picked straight off the berry bush.

Linking up with these wonderful blogs:  

Mom Start 

5 Minutes for Mom

Wordless Wednesday
Raising My Boys
Angry Julie Monday

Ten Tips for Flying with a Toddler (and Maintaining Some Shreds of Your Sanity)

Welcome back to me!

 Some of you might recall that I was headed back to my hometown for a visit last week.  I had the most sincere of intentions to post about that trip while I was on it.   However, I had forgotten that vacation time defies the laws of time and physics and proceeds at an accelerated rate (how does that happen, anyway?).

I do have several post ideas that I will be writing in the near future based on my trip.  I had an amazing time, my daughter loved every minute, and my husband surprised both of us by having a wonderful time as well.

I was mildly nervous about this trip.  Paityn's first flight was at four months of age; we flew from the West Coast back East.  I anticipated the worst; it was by far the easiest trip we have taken with her.  She slept almost the entire time. 

But as she has gotten older, she requires a lot more attention on flights.  We flew to Seattle in March, but this trip would be a lot longer.  I would need to entertain an active toddler for five straight hours, then another two.  There and then back.

It was a daunting thought.

On our way back, our first flight was delayed several hours, which gave me time to compose this week's Top Ten Tuesday list.

 

Tips for Flying with a Toddler 

(and Maintaining Some Shreds of Your Sanity)

Side note... had I not been so occupied with entertaining said toddler, I would have taken pictures to make this post slightly more interesting.  Sadly, that thought only just occurred to me. 

10.  Pack a goodie bag.

You wouldn't get on a ship that didn't have life preservers.  Don't get on a plane with a toddler without having a sufficient stack of games, books, and activities.  It's not safe.  Trust me.

Some ideas:

• Sticker books (little ones like these, large ones with reusable stickers, and plain stickers to put on a paper pad)

• Picture books with lots of different pictures to talk about- I bought a new Richard Scarry book as you can read these books lots of times and still see new items on the pages that you missed before.  Paityn had a lot of fun with this one.

• Coloring books (but don't be like me and forget crayons and resort to racing around the airport asking various restaurants if they have crayon packs)

•  Small new toys (that don't make noise) like little cars, a couple  tiny dolls, a container of small animal toys. 

•  iPod or iPad with kid apps.  My daughter loved the memory game one I downloaded.  But don't be like me and forget to charge it before you leave.

•  DVDs and a portable DVD player.  Don't be a hero.  A little tv isn't going to hurt, and it just might help.  We bought Paityn special toddler headphones, but she preferred to just watch without using them. 

Pull out items one by one on the plane, and try to space them out.  

One last thing, don't be like me and forget your goodie bag.   Ours spent the vacation sitting in the backseat of our car. I then had to race madly around the terminal buying a whole bunch more stuff.

We did, however, find this cool Handy Manny magnet set that she really enjoyed.

9.  Tray cover.

I bought this fantastic tray cover.  Guess where it was?  That's right.  In my daughter's backpack.  But I still think it's fantastic, and I can't wait to use it on our next flight.

Bonus tip: Wet Wipes

These are wonderful for wiping down all around your area, including your tray.

8.  Several changes of clothes.

I cannot emphasize this one enough.  Things happen on a tiny plane, messy things, especially when you hit turbulence with a drink in your hand or attempt to change a poopy diaper in a closet bathroom with no changing table.  

Toddlers are messy.  Don't tempt fate.

An extra shirt for you wouldn't hurt, either.

7.  Dress in layers.

Planes fly up high in the sky.  Betcha didn't know that?  That means if you have a window seat, it gets really cold and drafty.  Or sometimes, the heater isn't working right, and even an aisle seat is chilly.  Or the person beside you feels like blasting their air vent the entire time.  Or it's unbearably hot and your child ends up screaming the entire flight because she feels like a roast chicken on Fourth of July.

Layers.  It's key.

6.  Diapers- pack more than you think you will need.

Pack up as many diapers as you think you might need.  Then add ten more.

 
Why, you ask?  Because flights have this uncanny ability to be delayed or even canceled.  

Bonus tip:  Keep essentials in your carry on luggage.

Do you know they don't always give you your bags back when a flight is canceled and you are stuck overnight and five months pregnant?  The reason I know that is a very long story that gets me really worked up, so I will only share the sage advice I learned from that experience- keep essentials (glasses, change of underwear) with you, and always have enough for an overnight.

5.  Make sure your toddler eats or drinks on the way up and down.

Pressure changes are brutal!  I still nurse, so it's easy for me.  But we did use raisins for one of the flights.  This is really important if you are on the second flight of a trip; it's worse the second time around as well as on smaller planes.

4.  Bring medicines.

You are stuck in a tiny tin can in the sky.  If your toddler's ears are painful, she gets a headache or a tummyache, or she's suddenly just not feeling well, there is no CVS you can run to in the back. 

Pack up Tylenol, Little Tummys gas relief, Bonine for Children (motion sickness medicine), children's Benadryl,  Desitin, and any other medicines you might need.  

Don't forget to put all these in a small, separate, clear bag for security. 

3.  Having a sleepy toddler for a flight is good.  An overtired toddler is not.

It's wonderful to plan to have your toddler sleep on the plane.  But if she's overly tired, the extra stimulation and noise might cause that plan to backfire (not that I'm speaking from experience).

If your toddler really needs a nap, follow their cues on if you can get a little bit more until you get on the plane, or she really needs to rest now.  

Bonus tip: Bring a blanket for naps.

It can also work well to cushion your arm or shoulder against which your toddler is napping.

2.  Food.

The airlines are getting really, really cheap.  They charge for bags, for the nicer seats, for food.  

Bringing me to an important tip: bring lots of snacks.  

Make sure to bring familiar snacks.  Now is not the time to try a new one that might lead to an upset tummy.  These snack containers work quite nicely for keeping most of the snack off the floor.  If your toddler is anything like mine, though, they won't let a little floor grunge stop her from eating that last cheerio.

1.  Relax.

Someone once had great advice for me on flying with a toddler: Eventually, you will get to where you are going, and you will never see your fellow travelers ever again.

If your child is crying, fussing, kicking the seat, unable to sit still, or any number of things, it can be really stressful to feel the irritated glares and listen to the grumbling of your fellow travelers.

Do the best you can to help your child, smile nicely to those around you, and remember that you will never see them again.  Kids have to travel, and they are people, too.  

So take a deep breath, and remember- at the end of this trip, you will be on vacation.  Then, it's only x amount of days until you have to do it all over again!