We flew to Palm Springs today. Not only was it 12-week-old Linnea’s first flight, but it was also a first for 22-month old Miles — that’s what happens when you have two babies during a pandemic.
I was nervous to fly with both kids. Who wouldn’t be? It’s a scary thing, to get on a plane with two kids under two years old. When I asked my dad to watch the dog during our trip, he had the gall to respond, ‘why don’t you bring him with you?’ I said, ‘a baby, a toddler, AND a dog? Do you want me to actually not survive?’ He said ‘it wouldn’t be that bad.’ I don’t know what planet he’s living on but it’s not this one.
Anywho, back to the flight. Here’s how it went:
I woke up ready and raring to go. It was my first time on a plane in two years (hi, pandemic) and I was READY and I was EXCITED and I COULDN’T WAIT to have the first flight with two kiddos in my past. I did a Peloton ride, showered, finalized my bag and the kids’ bags, fed the baby her bottle, fed the big one his big kid breakfast, packed the car … and I have to say, I was proud of myself. The morning went swimmingly. We got to the airport in just about 15 minutes, as thankfully, we were able to fly out of a small airport near our house.
Miles was excited to see all the ‘big planes’ and ‘big trucks’ and he did surprisingly well during the initial wait for our flight. A few trips to the coffee shop for string cheese and croissants, a few laps around the waiting area, a few trips to the bathroom for diaper changes, a few VERY SMALL fits and we were feeling good. Linnea was, of course, sleeping peacefully. Thank god for little babies.
But then … then, just as we were getting ready to board, the gate agent came on the loudspeaker and said the words every traveling parent dreads hearing: ‘Your flight is delayed and we do not know your new time of departure.’ Erik and I made panicked eye contact with each other, each silently calculating just how many minutes until Miles reached full meltdown mode. Had our flight been on time, he would have made it! A perfect airport performance! With a delay, God only knew what was going to happen.
After a few minutes, the agent’s voice came back with an update: an hour and a half delay. At that point, I looked around and made eye contact with the few other travelers who had babies in two. I could see they were thinking what I was thinking: Should we go home?
Why does everyone have a nanny but me?
But then I noticed two of the parents heading to the bar for a Bloody Mary. Without their kid. I walked over to where they left their baby, ready to file a report with CPS, when I noticed a third adult pick up the little guy and start feeding him a bottle. That’s when I realized, with intense jealousy, they had brought a nanny.
So I looked to the other mother in the waiting area, hoping to silently commiserate. But she and her husband were also leisurely strolling around sans baby. When I spotted the baby, he was in a grandparent’s arms, snoozing away. I took a quick mental inventory and realized that in addition to two parents and two grandparents, the group had an aunt and an uncle. Twelve arms, one child.
Then there was me and my husband, with two kids and only four arms total.
Good for those other people. Very happy for them.
We spent the next hour and a half visiting the coffee shop no less than eight times. Miles and I bought so many cheese sticks they gave me a free cup of tea and bag of chips. He asked for ‘MO WATER’ so many times a woman approached me and said ‘I love the way Miles says water.’ ‘How do you know his name?’ ‘Oh, I’ve heard you say ‘Miles, don’t touch the fire alarm’ so many times I picked it up. Cute kid.’
Somehow we made it to boarding without major incident. We got to our seats and settled in. After a few minutes, that same woman approached and took the seat next to us. She looked at us with apprehension, not seeming to think the kid was so cute anymore.
But then… the flight went better than expected. Linnea was an absolute angel, her normal state, and Miles sat with me and allowed himself to be distracted pouring water from a bottle into a cup and back for about 45 minutes (I know, precarious toddler plane activity) and eating granola bars. I had prepared for the worst, but he was being downright pleasant. I even got to drink a Diet Coke while he watched Wheels on the Bus on the kid tablet and Linnea slept in my husband’s arms.
Of course, just when I was starting to feel proud of myself, I looked at the clock and realized it was 1:30, well past Miles’ nap time. As if on cue, he started screaming inconsolably and didn’t stop until the plane landed 30 minutes later.
I looked a few rows ahead, assessing the other babies, both of whom were sleeping peacefully, behaving like perfect angel children.
Wait, is this person posting my child’s tantrum on TikTok?
I looked to my left, where the twenty-something gal across the aisle was pretending to watch a movie on her phone but clearly actually taking a video of Miles’ meltdown, prepping to post on TikTok as soon as she switched her phone off airplane mode. I could only imagine the caption: ‘Ugh flights with kids.’ ‘This is why I’m never having kids.’ ‘Why can’t these parents control their child?’ ‘Birth control.’
But you know what? She doesn’t know it’s Miles’ nap time. She doesn’t know he performed like a perfect angel in the airport, all through the flight delay. She’s not taking a video of Linnea, acting like an actual doll in her dad’s arms. She won’t be with us later tonight when Miles laughs like a dolphin and grins and gets raspberries all over his face and makes us fall in love with him again and again and again.
She won’t go to sleep feeling proud of my kiddos for going on their first flight and proud of us as parents for simply surviving.