The Schlep, Part Two.

In the beginning I called the process of getting Adelyn out of the house "the great schlep." Those first few voyages with a baby are so daunting--it's such a shock to your old life that you can no longer up and leave the house at a moment's notice.

Five months later, and I've come to terms with it. Working between your schedule and your baby's infinitely more complicated schedule (you can wait until you get home to eat. She, on the other hand, cannot. Or will not.) is a delicate balancing act. Next month when I officially start working Adelyn will be with a babysitter three days a week (the other two I get to work at home), which should make our conflicting schedules a little easier to manage. But, still, getting Adelyn ready, myself ready, and the entire gamut of Adelyn's necessities ready before work will require additional planning. For instance--Addy still sleeps in her NapNanny. In fact, Jason and I are thinking we need to break her of this habit. We're wondering if it's maybe why she hasn't rolled over (because she doesn't get to squirm around in her crib all night and in the morning). It's getting harder to stay out with her for long periods of time (when we can't just lay her flat on her back at her grandparents' houses for a nap). And when I think about what I'll need to carry with me each day we leave the house--I don't want to add a bulky, pink, sleep-assistant to the load.

We started talking about this yesterday, when we were planning our trip to Delaware with Addy for my sister's wedding in August. We'll bring the pack 'n play, obviously, for our stay in the hotel. And tons of formula, bottles, clothes, bibs, burp rags, toys. And what about the Nap Nanny? Do we pay extra to check it in on the plane? Then haul it through both airports and cabs and through the hotel along with bags and bags of her other stuff, just because we--it's not her fault, really--are scared to endure a few sleepless nights weaning her away it? No. I think the time has come. Adelyn doesn't, I think, have reflux. Or if she does it's no longer a major concern for her. She's just not used to being on her back at night. Our fault.

So. The "great" schlep? I wish I could go tell myself five months ago to chill out. She weighed, like, seven pounds and she slept all of the time. We hadn't even approached the true schlep of schlepping. I don't know if we've even hit the peak now.

Yesterday, I took Adelyn with me to a meeting. I went with a co-worker to meet the people who run a ministry here in Murfreesboro, because I'm going to be coordinating a lot of literacy programs with them (helping people earn their GEDs, people who have never learned to read, among many other things). Since I was only going to be gone two hours I brought Adelyn with me.

And I timed that thing like a pro--we left precisely when it was time for her afternoon nap. This would mean, I thought, I hoped, that she would fall asleep during the drive and stay asleep for the next hour. But the second I opened the car door at our destination, her eyes opened, too. And that's how they stayed--for the next three hours. Who needs a nap when there are buildings to look at, people to smile at, things to learn? I'd brought the stroller since we were walking from my organization's office to a building a few blocks down. And it was HOT outside. It's been hotter here than I can ever remember.

Adelyn stayed content for the majority of the meeting--a few squawks here and there, quickly remedied by being picked up and shown off.

By the time I strolled her back to the car, though, she was desperate to fall asleep. Rubbing her eyes, blaring crying, onesie soaked through from the heat.

This is where the schlep really starts. The people in the car parked to my left are waiting for me to get this done so they can escape the heat and drive. After giving them a little "sorry this is about to take so long" wave, I hold the stroller in place with my foot, right by the car. I twist and stretch my arms to the front door, open it, and put the keys in the ignition. It's too hot to put her in the car without some sort of ventilation already in place--even I feel woozy when I first get in. So while I'm stretch-Armstronging my body to make sure the stroller doesn't stroll away without me, Adelyn is still crying. Screaming. After a few seconds of blasting the AC I lift up her increasingly-heavy car seat and put it in the back. (How I don't have arms of steel at this point, I'm really not sure.) Then I put the diaper bag in the front seat, and wheel the stroller around to the back to put it in the trunk. The car next to me has started backing up at this point. Luckily, she has a toddler in the backseat of her car and shoots me an understanding glance.

I fold up the stroller and hoist it up into the trunk--teasingly close to being done with the whole thing--but then--oops!--I forgot I'd grabbed a Diet Coke from the office and put it into the stroller's cup holder. So the already luke-warm drink splashes down the front of my shirt, my pants, down to my feet. It's so hot I don't even mind. I just want the stroller in the damn car. Once it's safely in I slam the door shut, climb into the front seat, and speed off. As soon as we hit 30 miles per hour Adelyn is fast asleep--and she stays that way once we get home, even snoozing through the removal of her sweat-soaked onesie and the transition to her swing.

This is a schlep. Not the nonsense I was talking about months ago. Look up schlep in a Yiddish dictionary and there would be a picture of a mother, baby crying in the car, with a stroller halfway inside of the trunk and Diet Coke all over her outfit.

It does get easier with time, though, getting Adelyn out of the house. You learn new little tricks and timesavers every day. Mostly through trial and error (like, put the diaper bag in the car FIRST, then come back and get the baby, or use nap time or independent play time to get everything ready, rather than waiting for the last minute). If you have any tricks of your own, I want to hear them. Please. E-mail them to me, comment them here, or send them to me telepathically. Share your wisdom on making the schlep as painless as possible.