Why did I agree to do this, again?

Inspired by emlocke, I've been thinking almost exclusively in haiku lately. Not perfect haiku, mind you, or even GOOD haiku (hers are much, much better). Just brief, direct stanzas of seventeen-ish syllables.

Here's a recent creation about flying with boy again, now that he's almost nine months old. Plus, did I mention? I WAS SOLO.

[Cue dramatic music.]

Terminals of germs,
Security awaits us.
I packed too much stuff.

Bjorn-ing up the boy
Takes a lot of energy.
I dig out the gels.

Diaper bag's unloaded,
camera bag is next.
I collapse the stroller.

Curses! Planned this poorly ...
Tennis shoes have laces!
How will I re-shoe?!

"Will you wand my shoes?"
Her face is dark and angry.
(That was a mistake.)

Sitting in a chair
Wearing a heavy baby,
Waiting for the wand.

But wait! No wand appears.
"Take off your shoes, please."
She sends them down the belt!

Of course they do not beep
Or set off any alarms.
Could have TOLD her that.

Now, I repack bags.
Gels into the pouches ...
Ready for the stroller.

Leaning down is hard.
Shoes won't tie themselves, I know.
Poor, Bjorn-ed baby!

FIN'LLY back in gear.
We set off for the gate,
Sweaty, but we've passed!

Oh, no! "Oversold."
The weary crowd is groaning.
Who will change their plans?

Not the ones with kids.
Amuse him for six hours?
You are kidding me.

Shuffle down the path,
Collapse the stroller again,
Gate-check all the way.

Can we find our seat?
We're sitting by MORE babies,
Noise is a given.

Boy is due to sleep.
But will he nap? I doubt it.
There's so much to see.

He's also due to poo.
Better chance of that, I think.
My fingers are crossed.

As we start the flight,
Boy is playing happily.
How long will this last?

We try to nurse him.
Eyes blink so very slowly!
But it doesn't take.

Up now for meal time.
How will a solo mom eat?
All that's left is tuna.

Balance on a knee
A tray of sandwich, chips and
Candy. YOU try it!

Somehow it gets eaten.
Plastic cup becomes a toy,
As does chip bag.

Crumbs are everywhere.
Boy is getting bored. That's BAD.
He's climbing my chest.

Clawing at the seat,
He peek-a-boos with others.
His foot's down my shirt.

You can only laugh.
Sore from all the wrestling now,
the end's in sight.

So did he sleep? No.
Not a wink. Are you surprised?
I KNEW he'd be up.

Touch down, grab our bag,
Meet our ride and then we're off.
Still two hours to go.

NOW he naps. Thank God.
And in the back seat with him,
I close my tired eyes.