Three Months Old

Vivian turned three months old on May 16th (or 12 months old from conception - that's a very long time..:-).

It's time for a plane trip - a nice short three-hour flight to Detroit to meet her Dadu (grandpa), and to see Uncle Alu and Aunt Michelle before they sell their lovely house in Ann Arbor.

Jo bought this polka dotted apron like thing that allows her to feed Vivian in public without showing skin. Laura had told us that the secret to flying a baby well is to feed her during take-off. Feeding apparently helps equalize pressure, and equalized pressure means the baby's ears won't hurt. Or, if you don't believe that, doing anything with a boob in your mouth makes it better.

It works like a charm. Vivian feeds and sleeps inside her new polka dotted tent. And then she wakes up and charms everyone around. And then falls asleep for the landing. Jo and I think this is a piece of cake. I conjure up images of flying to Tokyo and Auckland with Vivian just for the hell of it.

Ann Arbor is great (here's a picture of three generation of Chatterjees ). Vivian loves bathing in Alu and Michelle's very newly remodeled kitchen sink. And she takes over their bedroom and sleeps through the night. But on the last day, she skips her naps. We worry because we know that without her beauty sleep, she gets cranky.

Jo's timing is impeccable. We board the plane and they close the doors. At about five minutes to take-off, out comes the polka dotted tent. Vivian starts feeding. But wait - the ground maintenance needs to be called because an overhead bin won't close. It takes the guy 30 seconds to apply duct tape (rated for 300 mph) on the offending bin, and about 10 minutes to do the paperwork. Vivian is still feeding. Phew. But hang on - the tug that is attached to our plane to roll us out from our gate breaks. We wait for the aircraft at the next gate to leave and then borrow their tug. After a very long taxi, we finally take off.

But by now, Vivian has been feeding for ages and is full as a tick. About 5 seconds after take-off, she's done. She's so full, she refuses to suck on Jo's pinkie. We try everything. She clamps her lips shut - "thanks, but I am full".

About a minute later, my ears pop and I swallow to equalize. And Vivian starts screaming.

She gives it all that she's got. That's a lot of decibels for a tiny Bombardier CRJ tin can. Fellow passengers start plugging their ears - presumably to stop the bleeding.

We try everything - I even try to get Vivian to lick on a piece of ice - and that makes her madder. Finally, Jo calms her down - but it's an uneasy calm. We invoke Newton's First Law and don't change anything. Jo enters the Guinness Book of World Records for sitting in the most uncomfortable position for two hours without moving. I keep reading my book.

Vivian sleeps through the landing. Even though we are in Row 4, we minutely examine the carpet while our fellow passengers exit the aircraft and the leave the airport. We'd rather not make eye contact with anyone who was on the plane with us.

We get home and tumble into bed. Next morning, I take the early morning feeding for a change so Jo can get some sleep. Vivian and I are horsing around at 730am when Jo walks into the bedroom. Without looking up, I say - "Hey - that wasn't too bad". She barely whispers something incoherent. That's when I realize that she looks like a poster child for PTSD.

Today we have been on our best behavior. I tell Vivian - "Shabdhan, baba - Ma abar Mexico er dik'e takache" (Easy kid - Mom's looking towards Mexico again).

Happy three month birthday, Vivian.