I'd smile too if I didn't have a baby on a plane.
At the prompting of a concerned friend, I write this brief post to announce that Seabass and I have indeed made it to Idaho alive. That is the good news.
You may remember a post from two weeks ago regarding the terror I felt in anticipation of flying with my 13-month-old Seabass. It turns out I had every reason to fear flying with him: It’s bloody horrific. Rant: Would you believe that TSA requires babies to remove their shoes during security screening? He wears a size 5 shoe and they checked Seabass for explosives. I mean COME ON.
For the first flight, we were seated next to a very nice young woman (a college student?) who read a magazine the whole time. That is, she read a magazine when Seabass wasn’t yanking on it. Or screaming. Or disintegrating with rage when I wouldn’t let him tug the hair of the poor man sitting in front of us.
Yeah, that first flight was pretty much hell on wings. When the stewardess asked for my drink order, I, like a rookie idiot, requested ginger ale for myself and apple juice for a thirsty Seabass. Since he was sitting on my lap, I couldn’t pull the tray table down, so I had to hold the drinks in those clear plastic tumblers they hand out. (note to self: deny the beverage service!) Double-fisting the cups, I attempted to let Seabass drink from one cup while getting a sip or two out of my own. Apple juice cascaded down the front of his shirt (note to self: work on cup-drinking) and then he pulled my ginger ale down all over both of our pants. A whole cup. The wet spot was perfectly positioned to look as though I’d peed my pants. Our skin stuck together from the dried sugar. Oh, oh, I’m starting to twitch just thinking about it.
Seabass wailed during the descent of the aircraft until I donned my nursing cover and let the little dude have a boob. I was willing to do pretty much anything to relax him at that point. I also let him nurse during our 90-minute layover in Phoenix when he wasn’t running around the airport trying to grab everyone’s laptop, food, or SmartPhone. (note to self: next time, bring the Ergo carrier!)
The second flight was easier than the first for a few reasons:
- It was later, so Seabass was pretty dazed
- We had an un-booked seat beside us, offering a little extra space
- Our seatmate was a lovely retired stewardess named Joan who took Seabass on her lap and rocked him while I tried to relax. When I asked her if nursing the baby would offend her, she said, matter-of-factly, “Not at all. Flop it out and let ‘er rip.”
It was so wonderful to disembark the plane and to see my beautiful mom awaiting us at the baggage claim. And it’s been POSITIVELY HEAVENLY to be cooked for, cleaned-up after, and pampered the way Seabass and I have been at Oma and Oompa’s house. So I’m happy to report that being here is worth the pain it took to arrive.
By the by, the little “I’m sorry” goodie bags for my seatmates went over extremely well. Comments included:
“Well, this is a first.”
“What a lovely gesture.”
“Oh, this isn’t necessary!”
and, my personal favorite,
“Can I have another Kit Kat?”
I am Jaime, wife to Jacob. We are the smitten, stupefied, sometimes scared silly parents of a precious boy nicknamed Seabass and a darling girl nicknamed Sweet Chuck.
Higher Highs, Lower Lows 
It sounds like it wasn’t that bad. Our first flight with our 1 year old son: he vomited all over me, my husband and the business traveller sitting beside us. Thankfully, the business traveller was half-in-the-bag and laughed it off. Like a good mother, I had a change of clothes for the baby – just not us. We arrived at our hotel reeking of puke with a baby who was running a fever and a covered in hives. Fun times!
I feel like some I’m Sorry Kit Kats could have gone a long way in our case . . .
Glad you both survived… and glad that showers and washing machines remove sticky apple juice.
I can just picture it! Oh, the stress… but at least you made it. And at least it makes for a funny story! 🙂
My husband woludn’t help me either. I kept coming up with name ideas and he would only say he didn’t really like them, but when I asked for his input he woludn’t have any ideas. So I stuck with the first name that I really liked and kept trying different middle names. I finally found a middle name that I just loved and I wrote it down and showed it to him. He looked at it and said he liked it. That was the first name suggestion he liked, he never even liked the first name until I paired it with that middle name. Was this answer helpful?
I am laughing out loud. What a hilarious account – although I know you weren’t laughing through it (and may not be laughing yet). Glad you are enjoying some pampering. Can’t wait to hear how the flight home goes…
Well I’m glad it went somewhat okay. I can’t believe they made him take off his shoes I wouldn’t have thought that! Reminds of when we were in Mexico in 2009 and there were SO many signs saying “keep your shoes on” since all the Americans were so used to taking them off.
I totally know what you mean. I flew with Hannah from Australia to the U.S. by myself a few months ago when she was 20 months. I’d tell you about it, but I don’t really want to re-live it.
You tell a horror story in such a way we were all laughing out loud. Maybe we were just relieved it was you and not us:)
2 trips to mexico with lupe- boob the whole time, no asking permission…..