My head did not explode. I actually think I’ve figured out a solution and now I am relaxing a little, and even getting excited. After spending about five hours inputting various time and airport combinations on, it finally dawned on me that I had booked Mark and Jafta’s tickets on the last of our airline miles. I called American Airlines and explained the whole situation. (I might have even cried a little, just for dramatic effect). They put me on hold for a supervisor, who put me on hold for a supervisor, and twenty minutes and $150 later my name was now on Jafta’s ticket.

Problem (mostly) solved.

Mark and I will go to Haiti together, with Karis, pending her passport showing up. Jafta and India will stay home, which I feel fine about since they will be together. Jafta is was really excited about this Haiti trip and I haven’t told him yet that he won’t be going. I’m not sure how to break that news. Maybe I will lie. I’m not above it.

Yesterday we picked up our prescriptions for anti-malarials for all three kids. Since I wasn’t sure who would be going or staying, I had the doctor call in all three. This turned out to be good, because my slacker husband hasn’t seen his own doctor in several years and she is refusing to prescribe his without an appointment. So Mark will be drinking down both Jafta and India’s prescription, in the hopes that two of their doses will be equal to one of his. TIH.

(And why doesn’t Mark just go see his doctor, you might be asking? Because we figured out that between now and the day we leave, there is not one single moment during his doctor’s hours that he is not otherwise engaged).

It should be funny watching Mark drink this because it is truly the most vile liquid ever concocted. Chloroquine is not made in the US for children, so the adult pill has to be crushed and measured, and then suspended in syrup to make it “palatable”. The result is something that is palatable to someone without taste buds. Maybe.

After we picked up the antimalarials, we continued joy-riding until we got to Vegas. We got a room at a resort and Mark hung with the older two while I went to the ABC Kid’s Expo, which is basically a big, huge, giant room of baby and kid products. I’ve heard about it for years, and it is only open to media and baby boutiques. This year, we got an invitation as “media” for Mama Manifesto. That still makes me laugh a little, that I was walking around with a media lanyard. I felt like a giant poser.

Part of the reason I felt like a giant poser is because I looked like a giant poser. Last night was rough – none of us sleep very well away from home, and Karis was up half the night. Thanks to my generous and Ambien-impenetrable insomnia, I got about three hours of sleep. This, coupled with the stress I’ve been feeling about the whole Haiti thing, made me a little bleary-eyed and out-of-sorts. Then there was the fact that I had “hotel hair”. You know, when you take a shower with those water-saving shower nozzles and not all the conditioner comes out, and then the blowdry is not quite as effective as the one at home, and you forget the good balm that keeps your frizz to a minimum, and try to make due with the smaller brush because the good one seemed too big . . .

In addition to the bad hair day I was having, I also decided that given the size of this event, I should wear sensible shoes. Which in my world, means ugly shoes. I also decided I would take the old single stroller since Jafta and India would not be with me. I have two very awesome double strollers, since I am usually walking around with three awesome kids. For today, I pulled the snap-and-go out of the vault, which is a $25 stroller that I’ve had since Jafta was a baby.

Note to self: if you are going to an event where you want to represent yourself as a hip, savvy, in-the-know mommy blogger, don’t take a nasty old stroller, forget your hair pomade, and wear your flip flops.

Note to self #2: when hob-nobbing at an event with over 4000 products, try to get some sleep the night before.

Yeah, I am not exaggerating. There were over 4000 booths. I arrived at 9am this morning, and told Mark I thought I’d be ready to leave at three. At noon, I had visited about 1/4 of the first floor. By 6pm, I was still there, barely able to still move, and still missing over half of the booths. I’m pretty sure I looked like a homeless person by the end of the day, a) because I was dragging my tired self by leaning against the stroller, and b) the stroller was completely covered in free bags full of press kits that I was not assertive enough to refuse. That stroller was just a big walking mass of bags. I even started setting the bags on top of Karis. (She was sleeping. She didn’t care).

I don’t I can convey how tired I am this evening. Aside from the lack of sleep, this event played into some of my biggest personality deficits. I hate trying to sell myself, I hate talking to people I don’t know, and I hate pretending to be interested in things that are not interesting.

“Oh really? This is another BPA-free baby bottle? Yes, with air-vents to reduce colic? And it comes in slow or fast flow? Oh how fascinating! I’ve never seen something JUST LIKE THIS TWO BOOTHS DOWN.”

You know when you have a baby shower, and everyone watches you open your gifts? And you want to pretend like you are equally excited about each gift, so you hear yourself squealing and clapping about a baby nasal aspirator because you want Aunt Sue to be appreciated for her thoughtfulness? And you feel self-conscious but you just keep acting overjoyed over every nail-clipper/diaper cream/breast shield/onesie that you see?

Yeah, today was nine hours of that.

Mark, on the other hand, spent the day gallivanting around the strip with the older two. They went to see the lions, watch the fountains, they had gelato in Paris and lunch in Circus Circus. They had a fabulous time, when people weren’t trying to hand Mark leaflets for strip clubs. WHILE HE WAS HOLDING HIS DAUGHTER.

Ah, Vegas.

When we all got back to the hotel after our exciting day, Jafta decided that we should make a fire. So we did. It was a totally goofy and precious moment, us sitting in front of a fireplace after a sweltering day in Vegas, just because the room has a/c and it seemed like fun. We sang “Sweet Baby James” together (also Jafta’s suggestion, because he “sits by the fire in that song”) and we had a sweet little family time.

And right now, everyone is asleep and I am totally putting off the inevitable, which is that I will have another night of broken hotel-room-with-small-kids night of sleep, which I am avoiding by writing a ridiculously long blog post about pretty much nothing.


Goodnight, all you moonlit ladies.

PS If you don’t click this link then I guess you hate starving children or something.