The day started inauspiciously. I couldn’t get back to sleep after Peeper’s 3am feeding, my head was pounding and I spent a good chunk of the morning hovering over the toilet and trying not to throw up. (No, I’m not pregnant.) It was as if the universe was telling me, “Good luck flying with an infant today!”
Eric peeked his head into the bathroom. “Should I look into rescheduling?” he asked.
I shook my head. We were getting to New York, no matter how many barf bags I had to use.
