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Back From the Great White North

We're back from Vancouver, and I'm still in the process of entering some of my hand-written notes about the games into The Ice Hockey Escapades, as well as adding photos to the entries I was able to post from Al's Blackberry. I moved to paper after a couple games for two reasons: (1) my hands were already sore from holding my stick, and typing with my thumbs made the pain worse; and (2) it was faster to just take notes on paper, leaving more time for hanging out with my husband and child between games.

me posting from Al's Blackberry with Austen by my side

I'm not sure what I was thinking when I booked this trip; was it that we didn't end up wanting/needing the extra day in Vancouver last time we went? Or was it that Al wouldn't want to take an extra day off from work? I can't remember, but for whatever reason, I had us coming in a few hours before the game on Friday, and leaving early Monday morning. I obviously didn't take into account that we'd be flying in from farther away this time and that the airfare would be more expensive, or I would have tried to make more of a vacation out of it. In any case, we did end up having a lovely mini-vacation. The weather was fantastic, all of us really enjoyed the hotel (as always), Al got his favorite MMMuffins at the Brentwood Mall, and I got my favorite snacks at the Canadian superstore across from the hotel. And of course, I got to play a lot of hockey. (What I didn't do was take a lot of photos, sadly; that's what the extra day would have been good for.)

We'd planned to offer Austen a solid food of some kind while in Canada, but it turned out to be difficult to find/prepare a single-ingredient food for him while on the road (you're supposed to introduce one food at a time to check for allergic reactions). We did give him a bit of Al's McDonalds ice cream cone during the three-and-a-half-hour layover at Chicago O'Hare, but I don't think the mono- and diglycerides agreed with him, because he threw it up not long after.

Remember how I was thinking I'd like for Austen to try a uniquely Canadian food? Michele suggested poutine (also mentioned on Jay and Donna's blog), but as that's definitely a multi-ingredient dish, Al ordered it for himself instead, and Austen stuck with his old standby, paper. He ate napkins, chopstick wrappers, and even the address tag on my hockey stick bag (and he seemed to enjoy them more than the spoonful of avocado I gave him this afternoon). He also tried to munch on the carseat straps, but we actively discouraged this as the (rented) carseat was kind of gross. (On the plus side, according to Al, it was easier to install than our Graco Comfortsport.)

We noticed that flying with Austen was slightly more difficult this time than when we went to San Francisco in April, mainly because he's bigger and stronger now than he was then. He was still very well behaved, but his habit of stretching out while nursing meant that his head and feet were always hanging over the armrests. This was awkward when I was on the aisle, and downright painful for me on the one leg where I sat in the middle. (All our flights were completely, totally full.) His increased strength meant that our arms really got a workout when he was awake and wanting to stand on our laps (which is why I had Al hold him more on the return flights—my arms were already sore from four hockey games in a row). I think next time we fly I'll seriously consider buying him a seat and trying to distract him with toys.

Also unlike our SF trip, which involved no in-flight poopy diapers, Austen pooped twice on the flight from PHL to ORD, and once on the flight from ORD to YVR. Poops #2 and #3 came close enough to the end of each flight that we were able to change him in the airport bathrooms. Poop #1 required a change on the floor next to one of the plane's emergency exits, since there was no changing table in the lavatory. (All of the planes we were on were older, and it's only the newer ones that have changing tables—and faucets that stay on for a few seconds so you can wash your one free hand.) Incidentally, he also pooped on the return flight from ORD to PHL—about 30 seconds after the fasten seatbelt sign went on prior to pushback. Lucky for the friendly twentysomething guy sitting on the aisle that we didn't succeed in starting solids for real this weekend, as breastmilk-only poop doesn't smell too bad. (Although the paper Austen's been eating *is* showing up in his poop, it doesn't seem to have affected the smell much.) That poop also required a change on the floor.

Anyway, we all made it back safely (although my hockey bag didn't arrive until this morning, and the idiots who screened it apparently left one of the zippered pockes open, allowing a few small items—though no equipment, thank god—to fall out), the Canadian immigration agent was kind enough to stamp Austen's passport so he has a souvenir of his first trip out of the country, and I'm primed for the summer hockey season, which starts in less than two weeks. Yay!