Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Tips for Flying with an Eleven Month Old

Don’t do it.  No, seriously.  Don’t do it.

I haven’t been back to Georgia since my cousin’s wedding in June so I was itching to be back in God’s country.  So much so, that it seemed reasonable for me to fly across the country with an eleven month old by myself.  My darling husband was going to brave (I’m rolling my eyes) the 12-15 hour trip (depending on traffic) with our chocolate lab so he could tow back the ridiculous golf cart that he bought from my dad.  Ridiculous meaning that it’s one of those golf carts meant to be used out on a ranch.  We do not live on a golf course or a ranch so we do not need a golf cart.  However, my Peter Pan of a husband has ALWAYS wanted a golf cart.  We live very close to a grocery store and a few of our friends and he cannot wait to take the golf cart over.  Ridiculous.  In an attempt at being a supportive wife, I gave him my best patronizing smile and my half hearted consent to this ridiculous investment. 

Fast forward several months and I’m getting dropped off at DFW at 5:30 in the morning.  I have an eleven month old, a small suitcase, his carseat, a travel stroller, backpack, and the fear of the Lord in my heart.  I have two hours before my flight is to take off.  In that time, I have to feed him, change his clothes, wait for him to poop (hopefully before we are on the plane) and entertain a crawling, drooling, rambunctious child enough that he can ignore the fun and fall asleep on the 2 hour and 37 minute flight to Columbia, SC (yes, that’s an exact figure).
For once, luck was on my side.  The gate is filled with soldiers flying home for Christmas.  Men in uniform as far as the eye can see with their army backpacks flung from one side of the gate to the other.  Teddy says “Dada” but to everything and they all loved having Teddy crawl up to them and call them “Dada.”  It got quite a chuckle.  They were so sweet to let him crawl all over stuff.  He went up and down the line, side stepping from soldier to soldier.  Pulling their books from their laps and throwing them on the floor.  Pulling the chords from their laptops and trying to eat them.  Crawling over their backpacks.  Squealing with laughter as he tried to crawl away from his terribly embarrassed mother.   I must have said, “I’m so sorry” at least 100 times.  The fun time with the soldiers (bless their hearts) wore his little hiney out and thankfully he slept nearly the entire flight. 

The flight home was not so awesome, and by “not so awesome” I seriously contemplated not only divorce but taking a flame thrower to that stupid golf cart which has separated me from my husband.  My husband who is happily listening to talk radio, farting up his truck, and is downright giddy to get to play with his golf cart.  Meanwhile, back in hell, or flight 2937 Columbia, SC to DFW:
On the Brightside - the seat next to me is empty and the lady behind me is flying with a 2 year old so I’ll have an understanding audience.  However, terror fills my heart as the temperature is slowing increasing the further back in the plane we go.  Ut oh.  Neither Teddy nor I do well when it’s hot.  This isn’t boding well. 

The details are blurry because I’ve tried to emotionally block them out but every now and again I get a quick flash of what occurred on flight 2937…

·         45 minutes into the flight (and past his naptime) I’ve run out of games to play so I offer him a snack which he seems excited about.  Until he grabs it with all of his might and throws it into the isle.  Cheerios as far as the eye can see.

·         Awkwardly avoiding the stares of the assholes waiting in line for the toilet and blocking me in my seat when I need to stand up and bounce my screaming child.

·         Trying to reason with my eleven month old that just desperately wants to crawl down the isle of the plane.

·         Figuring out that it’s cold in the front of the plane so I’m bouncing him in the flight attendant nook when he grabs a club soda and throws it to the ground.

·         Silent prayers to God to help me get through this flight.

·         Teddy has climbed up my stomach, arched his back, and his pushing with both legs (and head flung back) as hard as he can to get away from me.

·         Panicking when I realize I have to pee with no way to do that on the flight.

 You get the idea.  Needless to say those 2 hours and 37 minutes were painful.  That little punk fell asleep the instant we got off the plane and I put him in his carseat and stroller.  I’ll remember this Tilmon Edward Hurt.  My mother of the groom speech is going to be epic.
It was worth it.  The whole family got to experience his first steps; although, seriously?  Someone put some shoes on that kid.


1 comment:

  1. McLain is going on his first plane ride in a few weeks to Dallas!!! only an hour flight and matt will be there. you are a rockstar mom and teddy is too stinkin' cute! Also, I nominated/tagged you for the Liebster Award....can't wait to hear your answers and random facts :)
    hope we get to see y'all in a few weeks!