The Flight

The Flight

I only cried twice. Once when I went through security at SFO. I had to take Cali out of her wrap to go through the machine and on the other side I felt panicky because I didn’t have anywhere to lay her down while I put the carrier back on myself. I asked a TSA worker for help - the irony of that statement is fantastic. I was informed that they cannot hold babies (but they can probe you, like that isn’t overstepping some boundaries huh?) So, I laid her down in my open roller suitcase and some TSA wizard yelled, “Mam, you can’t put your baby there, it isn’t safe.” Thank you! So I asked a nice Frenchman who made my baby smell like cigarettes to hold her for me – he said, “always a pleasure” and it made the smoke smell much sweeter.

I made my way to the handicap stall in the bathroom and gave myself a good 20 second cry I mostly just wanted my mom with me at that point, but figured I better shake it off and pee while I already had myself, two kids and three carry-ons in the bathroom. I only peed twice in the airports because the process with Cali strapped to my chest and Thomas constantly opening the door to the stall was just too traumatic.

On the first flight, my sweet once a week pooper…exploded…during take off…I was cornered by the seat belt sign for 30 minutes while the mess seeped through her clothes…honestly, it required 12 of the 15 wipes I packed just to clean the mess up. Also, I was boxed into my row by a very “British” gentleman: shiny bald head, bad teeth, super hairy arms, gold bracelet and the kindest, friendliest man – didn’t talk much but was very helpful when I needed it. Sir British Man proceeded to sleep for a consecutive 8 hours thus rendering any movement in or out of my seat…impossible. Thomas did well on this flight and mostly watched the Ipad and talked about how excited he was to see King Arthur’s England…aka…Heathrow International Airport J Aside from Cali’s explosion, the other major downer was that my media player on the plane did not work…11 hours…nothing but nursing, shushing, hand massages for T, an occasional uninterrupted 15 minutes of watching toy story 3 over Tom’s head with no sound and there was a blessed 4.5 hours of sleep.

Heathrow’s TSA people are much…jollier! I didn’t have to take Cali out of the carrier. I did have to haul an exhausted three year old all over the massive airport deserted of all things kid friendly until I found gate A7, an oasis of toys, crayons, a power outlet and play area staffed by two wonderful people who actually played with my boy (and about 12 other kids) for 4 hours of my 6 hour layover!

The final leg was delayed an hour by air traffic then heavy rain. Cali peed through her diaper. I remember when I was a brand new mom a friend told me, “you get to the point where you say to yourself, ‘ah, its just a little pee’ and you go on with your day.” I remember thinking, “disgusting, I don’t think I will get to that point.” Well, yes I did. Cali wore urine the entire trip and I was totally okay with it. The other major downers: Thomas only slept for one hour of the whole flight (of course it was the last hour of the flight too, meaning I had to wake the sleeping giant when we landed) Also, the entire plane’s entertainment system went down. One stewardess who has worked for British Airways for 15 years said this was only the second time she had ever seen this happen. Lucky me, 22 hours of flight time with zero media!

So, I prod, cajole and beg Thomas to walk the 200 meters from the plane to the immigration line, watching as we get passed by almost all of the other passengers who also have to go through immigration. He flat out sits on the pavement balling that he is too tired and cold, I fish out a sweatshirt but he is too tired to lift his little arms into it (this is the most painful moment of the trip). I lift him onto may hip, in between Cali and my backpack, Cali starts to cry, my right hand is holding his back pack and the roller carry-on. I make it the remaining 50 feet into the line, and out from a random side door pops Seth…this is the other time I cried. Somehow, he got permission to go through immigration with us – just when I was pretty sure I couldn’t go much father.

Summary

For those who don’t enjoy a page and half about a plane ride:

Travel time: 30 hours

Media time for Caroline: 0 hours

Media time for Thomas: 22 hours

Boob time for Cali: about 6 hours (she is such a good babe)

Number of 23 kg (51lb) bags checked: 4

Number of bags retrieved at landing: 4

Number of hours slept by Caroline: 4.5

Number of hours slept by Thomas: 8

Number of hours slept by Cali: 15

Number of times I will repeat this journey: 0 (although realistically I will probably do it a couple more times.)