Traveling with baby

Dec. 20, 2006

I traveled with my son, you’d think I wouldn’t have been so quick to jump back on the horse. But, for some reason, visions of a white Christmas in Oregon surrounded by relatives and hot northwest coffee made me forget the cardinal rule of air travel: Never (ever, ever) step foot on an airplane, bus or train with a child under two unless you’re either crazy or you’re being paid several thousand dollars to do so. Ever. Unfortunately, I forgot this rule when I booked Christmas tickets to Oregon a few months ago. I forgot this rule as I packed my suitcases and shuttled Joey to the airport. I didn’t even remember the rule until after we had checked our bags (along with the stroller, carseat and Pack & Play) and made our way through security.

Once through security, we found out that our flight out of Austin was delayed. This, in turn, made us miss our connecting flight in Dallas which led to a series of misfortunate events resulting in a screaming and naked (yes, that’s right, naked) baby on a freezing cold airplane hours after his bedtime. And this, in turn, lead to three exhausted, cold, tired and wet Texans arriving in Oregon several hours after our original arrival time on Christmas day, feeling anything but merry.

You’d think that since I’ve been a mom for almost an entire year, I’d know that with a baby, you can never be too prepared. I thought I had that one down pat. Usually I carry a huge diaper bag stocked full of essentials and yesterday as I packed for our flight, I went through a mental checklist and tried to think of any and all possible situations. I packed string cheese and cheerios in case he got hungry and empty sippy cups to fill with water on the plane. I brought toys and books and blankets and wipes. I brought diapers and Tylenol and hand sanitizer and changing pads. I brought two receiving blankets and three bibs. I really thought I was prepared, ready for any and every situation that little Joey could throw at me. I was wrong.

We waited until the last minute to get on our plane so that Joey would be able to run around and explore for as long as possible before being cramped in airplane seats for hours. As the last passengers loaded their stuff into the bins, we stepped onto the plane and started making our way to our seats. That’s when I smelled it. I looked down and Joey was literally covered in poop from shoulder to ankle. The plane was jam-packed and ready to leave any minute. Since there aren’t any changing tables on planes, Cam and I rushed back onto the tarmac just outside the plane while the flight attendants waited patiently to shut the doors. We laid out a changing pad and used a million wipes as we wiped him down from head to tow. It was everywhere. I put a fresh diaper on him and started digging in my bag for his clothes when it hit me. I had forgotten to pack a change of clothes.

So, much to the chagrin of many passengers on the plane who were quick to explain to me that there is absolutely no reason to take a naked baby out in public in the middle of winter, we climbed aboard, wrapped Joey in a receiving blanket and a coat and tried to keep him warm. As we got off the plane, the flight attendant gasped (literally) at me and said “You do know that it’s cold out, don’t you?” We carried our naked baby around the airport looking for somewhere to buy him something to wear, but it was Christmas Day and most of the airport stores were closed. Finally, we found a Dallas Cowboy’s T-shirt in his size. He wore that for the remainder of the day with a receiving blanket wrapped around his legs.

This time, I’ve learned my lesson. I will not forget the rules of travel. No matter how enticing it sounds, I will not book tickets to fly with my son until he’s at least two and potty trained. The next time I fly with him, he will be able to happily watch a Little Einstein DVD while we fly. Yes, there will be a next time, but not in the next year or so. No way, no how.