April 18, 2013

Our Worst Case of Jet Lag...Ever.

Earlier this week, B and I flew through the sky, over the ocean, and across a handful of timezones to visit the Lone Star State.

(His daddy's holding down the rainbow for us 'til we return.)

Writing a post about our flight adventures has been on my list for almost a year now. But this post isn't about our flight adventures. 

This post is about the ridiculous consequences of our most recent one.

When I speak of such ridiculous consequences, I speak of jet lag. To be honest, I used to scoff at the term. Like it was made up or something. 

It's not.

In fact, for those of you unfamiliar with it, here's the definition, courtesy of Merriam-Webster:



Fatigue? Check. 
Irritability? Check. 
Spontaneous emotional breakdown in front of father, sister, son, and bro-in-law? Check-check.

Let's back up a bit.

In the week leading up to our departure, B developed a bit of a mild cough, which disturbed everrrybody's sleep each night. By the time our departure day rolled around, I knew it hit me. I had a cold too. 

All things considered, our redeye flight was pretty uneventful. Out of the seven-ish hours, B probably slept about five. I was in and out of consciousness, making sure he was as comfy as possible, snuggled up with me in the seat. 

NBD.

We arrived, bleary-eyed, but running on adrenaline and the excitement of seeing Texas fam for the first time in months. We got our traditional Shipley's breakfast and cousins came to play. 

B was happy as a clam while I (a bit compulsively) unpacked and got us settled for the visit. 

Honestly, I was shocked (inspired?) by how well he was coping with the time change. He was FULL of energy, running around like a wildman and playing with his cousins. He eventually took a short nap, then came back for more.

All was well, until it wasn't.

Later that evening (or was it afternoon?!), I had a breakdown. My dad asked if he could leave to go handle something up at the office, and I lost it. 

I was SO. STINKING. EXHAUSTED. Just the idea of surviving dinner, bath, and bedtime alone on what felt like half a brain pushed me over the edge. 

I burst into a mess of tears, right there in front of my dad, my sister, Bryson, and my bro-in-law. (Who asked from the safety of the next room, "Aren't you supposed to cry when you're LEAVING? You just got here?!")

My dad, flabbergasted by the ridiculous response (although he really should be used to it by now after raising four daughters...) said, "Well I'm sorry! I won't even think about leaving now!"

I was a mess. Sweet Bryson grabbed a Kleenex and started wiping his face out of precious empathy.

Through the sobs, I laughed at myself. "I'm sorry. I have literally no good reason to be crying. There is no secret emotional cause. I'm just tired! Like exhausted. I just want to relax. I want Bryson to sleep well. Since I don't see that happening, I'm a crazy person."

Minutes later, I snapped out of it. I hadn't had a good cry in a while, so maybe I just needed a release.

Then it was Bryson's turn to take a spin on the jet lag train.

After the cousins were gone and the toys were shelved, it was time to set the bedtime routine in motion. I knew we were in for something special, considering the tiny amount of sleep and massive amounts of playtime we were working with.

We sat down to the table with some strawberries, Wheat Thins, and a peanut butter waffle (don't judge).

The rest of the story speaks for itself. 

(Note: Be sure to turn up your speakers so you can hear/see what happens at :29.)

video

I originally recorded this just to send to his daddy, who is missing him like crazy. (Thanks for sharing us with Texas, Jerm!)

But then I realized it was too funny/cute/pitiful not to share with everybody.

Immediately after the sleepiest dinner of all time, we headed to a quick bath and got ready for bed. Except for a 30-minute period when he sat quietly in his crib, pondering life's great mysteries, he slept remarkably well for the entire night! 

As for me, his crazy mother, I felt MUCH better after a shower and getting some work done. A day or so later, we're almost adjusted.

As it turns out, our worst case of jet lag of (ever) was pretty entertaining. Even still, I'm hoping to spare the tears next time. Unlike Bryson's sleep-eating, it's just not cute.


What are your best tips for avoiding jet lag? Share them here in the comments!


P.S.  This post is not related to my business, which is about helping bright entrepreneurs attract their dream clients, one brilliant message at a time. HOWEV - if you like my writing and want help with your own, sign up for free tips at www.nikkielledgebrown.com!

2 comments:

  1. I think our worst case of jet lag came when we flew from Hawaii to New Jersey. In the beginning it was great. I think Dominick was happy to see his cousins and grandpa, but after the first hours it went down hill quick. It was non stop crying which led to me crying. Finally I put him in a bath with some calming bubbles which really seemed to help.

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    Replies
    1. This is why my only complaint about Hawaii is its distance from Texas! And bubbles seem to make everything better, don't they?!

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