The Mile-Cry Club: a Novel

Preface:

Before and during pregnancy, my husband and I would see babies and picture all the cute moments we had to look forward to, anxiously wanting to get pregnant and then, awaiting her arrival. We would exchange funny ideas about how cute babies are when they 1st walk, the little uncoordinated “dance” they do to music, and how our lives would encompass so much more.

Although this all came true for us, we neglected to think about all the….shall we say… more challenging moments on the horizon.

Intro:

Yesterday we flew into Texas to see my husband’s grandmother.

[Side-note: it would be the first time for her to meet her first and only great-grandchild in her lifetime (she’s 96 and I have no plans on getting pregnant anytime soon – yes, I do realize I’m 37 – I don’t care).]

We’ve flown with our baby several times, with pretty good luck for the most part. Of course there’s the usual 9 pieces of luggage of which 7 are baby-related, the whole security check-in is a nightmare, and there is always the initial crying episode or two that lasts 10-15 minutes (feels like10-15 hrs.)…overall, bearable. But, we had yet to experience the screaming-crying/tantrum-throwing I’ve seen and heard other parents go through.

Do you see where I’m headed?


Ch. 1: the 1st Half
FYI – not advisable to travel through the actual city the Super Bowl is taking place.

This was our day, play-by-play:

1. Baby slept horrible night before and woke up with an eye infection and temperature. We had already canceled the same previously scheduled trip because she was sick last time, and we just couldn’t cancel again.
2. Airport was SO packed – you would’ve thought the Super Bowl was at the airport. This of course lent itself to several obstacles and hurdles we found ourselves challenged with.
3. Including: the line at the Security Check Point which had a line 1/2 mile long, and took 45 minutes to get through.
4. Knowing we wouldn’t eat till later that eve., combined with the fact that eating at the airport is equivalent to going to Disney World for my husband, it was VITAL to get PIZZA 10 minutes before boarding.
5. Fast-forward to us doing acrobats with the baby, 3 large slices of Sbarro’s, an overflowing diaper bag, 2 jackets, a baby, the Baby Bjorn (would it be weird to pray to the founders of that thing?), my laptop, my purse, oh – and did I mention the baby?
6. Flight went surprisingly smooth fortunately – except that it was only: 45 MINUTES! All that for 45 minutes. We still had a LAY OVER in Arizona – right – home of Super Bowl XLII (I had to look that up).


Ch. 2 - Halftime

We get off the plane and have a good hour before the next flight. Let me remind you, baby slept maybe 5-6 hours the night before, she didn’t feel good, and had NOT taken a NAP. We had an hour to kill, and an hour to entertain her:

She had her own plans. She was on a MISSION to show off her new walking skills through a frenzied mixed crowd of passengers: 1/2 of them parents thinking: “Thank God that’s not me”, and 1/2 of them non-parents wondering: “Why in the hell would you fly with a baby. There was no picking her up, as every time we tried, she threw a fit.

Ch. 3 – The Kick-off

As we are the last passengers ready to board, my husband draped in a clad of overstuffed black bags and jackets looks down, looks at me and says:

“Do you have the diaper bag?!”

OMG – I think I had a silent heart attack. If the bag only contained diapers, it would’ve been understandable, but I know you know how a diaper bag, serves not only as a bag for all the items you couldn’t fit into your suitcase, it also doubles as a 2nd purse.

With the baby, I run to the 2 areas we blessed with our presence, of course going to the wrong place as ALL areas in the airport look the same. No luck. My husband runs over pointing out the actual scene of our crime, and there it was. Thank God.


Ch. 4 – The 2nd half

Suffice to say, we made it on the plane.

Just as we thought we were in the clear, it starts. She’s starts whining/crying, not happy in my lap, using me as a ladder to get to my husband – she falls into his lap. Squirming out of his lap she’s now fully crying. We’re doing everything under the sun to keep her from going crazy. Pulling toys out of the diaper bag like Penn and Teller trying to show her just how GREAT her toys were.

Then – there it was - the screaming.

I’ve learned to pretty much tune things out – as you have to as a parent or else you could literally go crazy. I did just that. But it was still – a living nightmare. I think even the pilot was making jokes about her tantrum over the intercom. Gotta love Southwest.

At that point, my brain was a scrambled mess of possibilities, and the screaming was doing nothing but scrambling it into complete mush – my husband and I looked at each other, finally exhaled and admitted defeat.

Poor thing: she was exhausted, teething, trapped, and miserable and there was nothing we could do about it except for hope that she’d wear herself out and go to sleep.

Oh, and by the way, did I mention - we haven’t even taken off.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a perfectly made-up stewardess with a big fake, patronizing smile:

“Do you NEED anything? Can I bring you some water, juice – ANYTHING?”

I say with a defeated half-smile: “I donlt know - I don’t know WHAT to do”.

O.K., so get ready for this:

She raises her penciled in eyebrows, her black-lined eyes widened and she said in an obviously annoyed and condescending tone:

“Do you want to TRYYY something?!”

I was so overwhelmed at this point and couldn’t believe she had the nerve to talk down to me like that; I was at a loss for words. After regaining consciousness, I thought to myself:

“Lady, I’ve been TRYING something for 17 months now 24 hours a day, 7 days a week! Are you kidding me??

This woman: with her caked on make-up, her perfectly dyed and straightened hair obviously had NO CHILDREN and NO EXPERIENCE with children. And if she did, she’d be one of those parents you see in the grocery store, yelling at their kids for being kids.

That was the straw that broke the mother’s back. My eyes started welling up, the tears started flowing. In this moment of release, all I cared about was helping my daughter through her misery and feeling sorry for the both of us; in this moment of clarity, I remembered the magic word: milk.

She was out. For two hours. She slept the whole flight.

Needless to say, the stewardess left us alone. I think the she felt bad (at least I hope so).

I did my best to not make eye contact with her, hoping that would silently teach her a lesson.

Final Chapter: The Score

So, there you go. We survived the horrifying, torturous airplane experience every parent dreads and makes non-parents want to stay non-parents.

We got through it: unscathed, undefeated, and a little bit stronger.

Oh, except for the fact that our stroller and car seat got left behind in Arizona…I’ll save that for another blog.