I am not naturally a planner or list maker. The farthest thing from a type A personality. The first time I made a list was about 3 months ago when I was working full time, preparing to have a baby and for a cross country move and I knew that if I was not organized, things might get pretty miserable.
We are in San Antonio this weekend for Peter's sister's wedding. Knowing what I wrote above you might find it hard to believe that I had three plans (three plans!) for coordinating John's eating schedule so that we could get to the wedding on time and make it through the ceremony without any starvation breakdowns (John's interpretation of the word"starvation" is rather loose...). It is more difficult than you might think to work anything on a rigid time table into an infant's feeding schedule. But I thought between plans A, B and C, certainly one of them would work. Ha. Now I know that an entire alphabet worth of plans will guarantee nothing as far as infant schedules go.
My first plan was to leave my mother's house at 5:30 pm, arrive at the wedding venue at 6 pm and feed him right before the ceremony which was to begin at 6:30. This plan was rendered null and void. Surprisingly, it was not ruined by any difficulties getting the baby and myself ready and out of the house on time but rather by my beloved little sister who required extra primping time (hi, Diana! You did look great....) then we had to go pick up her boyfriend. We ended up leaving at 6 pm.
No problem. John usually falls asleep in the car. We will arrive just before the wedding starts and hopefully he will stay asleep throughout the ceremony. This was plan B. He was very angry for a while in the car so I was hoping he would tire himself out and get into a nice deep sleep. Sure enough he did fall asleep. Until, of course, the car stopped and his eyes popped wide open. Yet he still maintained his cool as we sat down and the procession began. The ceremony was not supposed to be long so I thought he just might hold out until the end and then I would feed him.
Plan B also crumbled when little J began squirming and fussing right as the preacher started with his "dearly beloveds." I quickly picked him up out of his carrier. Plan C was to breastfeed him right there in the back row so that I could still see the ceremony. This was my least favorite idea since it would require me to nonchalantly partially disrobe with a writhing, rooting infant in my lap while wearing a nursing cover which would be really hot since we were outside. This idea also evaporated when I picked John up and felt that he had extravagantly messed his pants. There was a yellow puddle of poop in his car seat, it was soaking through his onesie and threatening to soil everything within a 15 foot radius.
So, I whisked him away into the mansion where the reception was to take place. Of course the first bathroom I found was a little hobbit hovel in which I could barely turn around let alone change and feed the baby. So, resorted to changing him on one of the expensive looking chairs. Thankfully there were no bodily fluids spilled there during that process. I then started to feed him still hoping that I could make it out for the end of the ceremony. But before the milk buffet had even gotten underway, I noticed people wandering outside over to the hors d'oeuvres. The ceremony was only 15 minutes. I only needed 15 minutes. John was a little angel before and after the ceremony. But the 15 minutes of the day that I had planned for were the only 15 minutes of the day complicated by John's hunger combined with a diaper blowout.
I was hoping with all my planning that we would make it through the ceremony without a hitch. Which of course didn't happen. But thankfully the only hitching that mattered went on beautifully!