Have you ever endured six hours of snuggly hell? It’s called flying home for Christmas with an infant.
When you show up at the boarding gate with Junior, airline passengers look at you with disgust — except for the first class people who assume you won’t be seated next to them.
There you are with your diaper bag, breast pump, car seat and stroller. Hopefully your luggage doesn’t get lost because your only outfit has spit up on it.
Nobody wants to sit next you. There might be a grandma or two who smile and say “What a cutie pie!” but secretly those ladies hope you sit 10 rows away.
The wait to board takes forever. You start to sweat and hope you timed the body fluids right. Clean diaper — check! Have to pee — nope! Enough milk to nurse on ascent and ward off tiny painful ears — double check. Don’t drink any water or the scientific ratio is screwed up.
Your baby fidgets in the Ergo carrier and your back screams. You know Junior wants to crawl around on the ground, but yuck. Who knows what germs lurk on the SeaTac carpet? You already spent half of last night panicked that the plane might carry Ebola.
No, it’s definitely better to keep Junior in your arms. Plus, it’s good practice because you’ll be holding him on your lap for the entire flight. Suddenly you wish you had purchased an extra ticket. Too late.
At least boarding time is fast approaching.
Or, not.
Your flight is delayed 57 minutes! The retired couple next to you complains about the state of travel these days. What do they have to gripe about? They don’t have 22 pounds of trouble strapped to their front.
A teenager walks by with a gigantic cup of soda. Suddenly you are parched. But forget it. If you drink something now, then — oh, no. You’re not the only one who’s thirsty. Junior gives you “the look” and you feel your internal milk jug kick in.
OK, be smart here. Do you have time to track down the nursing mothers room or should you bring out your Udder Cover? You contemplate your baggage and imagine dragging it across SeaTac.
Lactation warrior it is. You sit down and make a political statement.
Unfortunately, your baby is the loudest eater you’ve ever met. Slurping noises come from underneath the blanket that everyone can hear. An old man leers. You pray that he’s in first class, far away from you, and that his seat won’t recline.
You’re going for the final burp when they announce pre-boarding. Sweet! You’ve almost made it. Maybe the universe will smile and your baby will sleep the whole way home. You might even get to read a magazine.
Dream big, Mama. But first, Junior has delivered a present.
Jennifer Bardsley is an Edmonds mom of two. Find her on Twitter @jennbardsley and at www.heraldnet.com/ibrakeformoms and teachingmybabytoread.com.
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