Considering that Little Man is less than three weeks old, I was a bit apprehensive about taking him on a four-hour road trip for our second beach trip of the summer. However, unless I or he was deathly ill, I wasn't about to miss it.
It was great fun, and so wonderful to spend more than just a meal or an evening with my family. There was much to-do over the baby, and he wasn't out of someone's hands for more than thirty minutes the whole time we were there. I enjoyed the respite, but I began to miss him after a while and so kept him for myself for longer than just feedings. ;)
The travel was better than I'd anticipated. Husband was a most helpful and fearless leader and I could not have done that trip without him. There were several memorable stops, including one just as we were getting onto I-40. We stopped at the exit ramp so I could nurse the little one, but before that we had to change him. I laid out a changing pad on my lap, arranged the new diaper and wipes, and proceeded to strip the baby. In a matter of seconds a perfectly normal diaper change turned volatile. And it just kept coming. Husband had begun to help as soon as he heard my initial squeal, punctuated by the thunder emanating from the tiny person in my lap - but despite four hands working frantically to catch the various liquids, we ended up with a terrifically pungent-smelling car, several soiled wipes and (two!) dirty diapers, a wife covered in wet, and a dry, smiling infant. Good times.
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