We celebrated your 5-month birthday - in Istanbul! You are so young, and already flew across continents with mommy. Turkish immigration officers cooed at you with ahhs and ohhs, while the Americans carefully studied your passport, moving their gazes back and forth between your face and your picture, lest you be a mini terrorist. My little poop bomber.
You are tough, and the best companion. The trip required two connections - three airplanes - and you didn't complain about your ears or about tiredness. When other babies on board cried, I anticipated a chorus that would include you. But you were friendly and stoic as usual. You refused to lie down, as usual. At meal time the Macedonian man next to me offered to take turns, and we each held you while the other ate the meager meal. Then he announced that you began pooping. You pooped plenty during the flight, which got me worried about the number of diapers I brought along.
Our visit to Istanbul was short, cold and rainy. A lot to see, and many to meet. Most importantly, I wanted you to meet your Great Grandma Matilda and take a picture documenting the four generations of women in our family.
To accommodate for your needs, your grandparents borrowed a car seat, a stroller, and a baby bathtub from their grandparent friends, and bought one-hundred diapers - never underestimate Zoe's diaper consumption. Since we had no crib, you and I shared a bed, and built a fortress of pillows around you.
I discovered that Turkish people of any age and gender are sincerely crazy about babies, which explains the population explosion despite poverty. Everywhere we went, you got loving looks, to which you responded with friendly smiles. In an instant, help was available when pushing the stroller up or down a stair, or placing it on an escalator. Sad that people with such tough lives, are so receptive to others' needs, and so easy to make happy, just by seeing your cuteness. Nursing you in public was a breeze. Triggered as much attention as would someone having a cup of tea. And if people's gazes shifted to you, their faces melted with affection. In the States when I nurse, no one talks to me. They avoid eye contact or look-and look away. Sounds harmless, but feels unnatural and suspenseful, with potential for someone to say something.
The traffic was insane. I often found myself envious of people's lives in Istanbul - cultural metropolitan, natural beauty, vibrant people... you are luckily unaware, but we live in Texas... - The envy disappeared every time I was in a car. At some point we were going 10km/hr and your grandparents commented that the traffic was flowing! You can't stand waiting on red lights, let alone Istanbul traffic. Although baby car-seat laws were recently passed, they weren't enforced, so I ended up nursing you in traffic to calm you down.
The big surprise of our trip was the unexpected visit of your uncle Can! He flew in for one night only, just to meet you. Little did he know that you two were already buddies. You displayed no stranger anxiety, to say the least and were ready to play and work your uncle's arms and shoulders to exhaustion.
You played... and bounced... and laughed...and played some more...
You watched soccer...
And the next morning he kissed you good bye.
Our return trip was adventurous and super frustrating. We got stuck at the airport all day, as some airports in Europe were shut down. The hospitable incapable Turkish airport employees waived all solutions offered, thinking that magically the airports in Europe will open despite contrary intelligence, insisted on looking for our luggage elsewhere although I told them where they would be, and eventually, hungry, depleted, and out of diapers, they put us in a hotel by the airport for the night. Happy to see you for one more day, your grandparents drove all the way to the airport again.
Next morning we took off in style with Turkish Airlines, where food was served in plenty.
And Zoe landed on the arms of her daddy.
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