Travelling Solo In An Airplane With A Wild 11 Month Old

In a sane world, there might be some general rules for How To Manage Squirrely Babies When Confined In Metal Tubes Hurtling Through the Stratosphere. I imagined such a world when Tobias and I decided to take Espen on his first plane ride at 6.30am in the morning.  That meant getting the baby up at 4.50am and carting him off to the airport in his moose jammies whilst feeding him a bottle on the way as he tried to figure out how the heck his mum and dad were awake before him.

We had done our internet research. We had milk, toys, and snacks to amuse him and keep his ears equalized.   We were prepared to walk the aisle, do cartwheels, and apologize to angry AM fliers.  What we did not anticipate was Espen not just liking the experience, but going mental with delight.  That’s a lot of wiggling, people.

To his credit and the airlines', we were assigned the seats JUST behind first class due to his baby status, and possibly the everlasting dismay of the first class passengers.  A small rant: If you're going to shell out the dosh to travel first class, for godssake, do it on transcontinental flights, but save your money on those four-seat commuters.  You'll still hear a baby through the flimsy curtain dividing the posh from the status quo.

Espen, was in FINE form at 6.30am.  Between the two of us and the extra leg room, he had free reign to squeal and ooh and try to pry the plane apart at the seams.  Having a baby means discovering a world you never thought to notice.  For example, did you know that there are plastic strips that hold parts of a plane together that a baby can, with sufficient diligence, remove by prying out the screws? Espen did. Terrorists don't need bombs, they need infants.

There were no tears the entire flight.  The kid was over the moon.  

Our time at Manhattan Beach consisted of Espen deciding to embark on an epic marathon across the sands, whereby he could sample the fine subtleties of sand textures available at different locations.  With his mouth.  Can babies expire from over-consumption of sand? Espen was earnest about finding out.  He shoveled handfuls of sand into his mouth for ten minutes straight, despite my efforts to substitute bananas for sand. He was not tempted at all. Not even a little.

After five days of delightful frolicking beneath piers and throughout the Getty Villa, Tobias headed to Vegas for a conference and Espen and I prepared for our solo air adventure back home.  

 

Here's the thing. Never underestimate the cumulative effect of carrying a baby, a backpack, and a suitcase, even if it has wheels.  Even if you think you're travelling light, take a moment to consider how this can play out.

Say your flight gets delayed, twice.  Say you then need to give a wild baby snacks and sips of water.  Say he spills water all over himself and manages to grind banana into every fold of his clothing.  Say you need to dig out fresh clothes and change him right there in the middle of the airport because there's no way you'll get his wet, slimy self to the bathroom without needing to change yourself as well.  Say you know exactly where all the necessary items are to perform this clothing slight of hand.  Say that you must simultaneously keep said baby from trying to lick the garbage can, rip everything out of the carefully organized backpack, and yell baby pick-up lines at the Syrian refugees trying to find their connecting flight on the monitor above his head. Say things like this happen for the entire time you are waiting for your plane to finally start boarding.  

If you feel tired reading the above paragraph, imagine doing it all with a bouncing forty pounds strapped to your upper torso whilst trying to maneuver a suitcase that now has a plastic shopping bag full of toys hanging from it that occasionally fall out, because it was far too complicated to try and shove it back into the backpack AND keep the baby from ripping off a rabbi's dangly tassel things in the coffee line.  

All I'm trying to say here is, I will be travelling with a manservant, maidservant, and/or husband from here on out. 

Espen thought it was all splendidly fun. He practiced his parade wave when I took him strolling up and down the aisle, yelling "HEY!! HEY!!" at both sides equally. Someday when he has children of his own and calls to tell me stories like this, I will smile and nod and go take a nap, just from the nostalgia of it all.    

First Snow, Sharing, Touching the Pump, and Baby Hovercrafts

Espen has been busy for the last month. He has grown two great top front teeth, experienced his first snow, and discovered the joy of sharing.  I can say with great certainty that the first thing he ever offered to share with me was slightly chewed beef jerky.  Nothing says love like, "Here mom! I've gotten this hard meat nice and softer for you! Try it!"

As an aside, before becoming a parent, I admit I was rather off-put by stories of parents consuming or pre-chewing their offspring's food.  Not so anymore. Now I gleefully gnaw on a piece of dead cow that has been in Espen's sweet, drooly mouth only seconds before.  While my ability to nurture and run on little sleep has increased exponentially, my sense of interpersonal hygiene has leapt straight back to the Stone Age.  Me mom. You baby. We eat foods.

Yes we do.

In slightly cleaner (appearing) adventures, it snowed three days ago.  It has completely shut down the city of Portland. Only Thai restaurants and Home Depot seem to be open, so we've been stocking up on take-out and light bulbs when we get cabin fever.

Espen was not impressed with his first run-in with the fluffy white stuff that kids of all ages adore.  Normally, he likes to sit at the open sliding door and laugh at the outside world.  When he realized that the outside world was a new color and COLD, he wept.

As good parents, we decided that a bit of warmer clothing and a nice sledding expedition would be just the thing to introduce him to the fun side of white cold.  To his credit, he learned to sit a snow glider very quickly and managed to tucker himself out from all the brisk aired excitement.  Still, as we drove our trusty Subaru Brian to the store later that day, his little face showed great concern over the monochromatic world whizzing along outside his window.  The baby has opinions and snow seems to have settled in somewhere between "WHA!? and hmmmmmmmm."

And now a statement that may be TMI.
I have been exclusively pumping breastmilk for Espen for the last four months.  Those of you who are following this blog may recall the challenges we have had with breast-feeding and I will simply refer to earlier posts for those who want to know what I'm talking about. The upshot of this is that I spend many hours a day strapped to the pump, sitting on the couch while Espen amuses himself at my feet.  Or tries to dismantle the Oh-So-Fascinating array of tubes that seem to run from a growling box to mum's boobs.  Recently, I have had to start sitting on top of the couch so he cannot reach the tubes. He's getting tall.

Finally, this weekend, I realized that the mystique of the pump had to be addressed or I would be hanging from the ceiling in an attempt to keep my statuesque, curious baby away from the milk horns.  I let him explore the pump.  He was overjoyed.  I'm still not certain whether it has increased his excitement over the milk machine or desensitized him to it, but we're going to continue having supervised play dates with the apparatus until he either stops caring, or gets weaned. Either way, it will all end in about a month and a half when he becomes a big baby and we move to solid food exclusively.

Espen has started to remove his hands from whatever he is supporting himself with while standing and HOVER.  It's fairly exciting and not a little shocking when I look down and see him free-standing beside me just long enough to smile and then plop down on his bum.  I know, I know, babies do this all the time, but that's what makes parenthood so damn wild.  It REALLY feels like it's the first time anything like this has happened. EVER.  It's like being a kid with the ability to drive and get into debt.  SO CRAZY.

Needless to say, I'll be showering and preparing for the day now in hopes that Espen will have another delicious snack to share with me.

As an aside, his first share with Tobias was a carefully rolled diaper. And yes, it was dirty.