Flying With A One Year Old

Flying with a baby can be a scary thing. Anxiety creeps in. I can so easily start to feel overwhelmed or alone. When Kins was really little we flew to a few places and this girl surprised me to no end! I thought flying would be so tricky- I mean, I was still getting this whole nursing thing down, and then to think of doing it on a plane next to a stranger was a whole other experience. (Not to mention having to bring extra bras and shirts, because you know, nursing can be messy!) But this girl did incredible. The moment the engine would rev up, she would fall fast asleep and sleep for long periods of time. Jeff and I would eat, watch movies, or sleep too. It was great!

Then we went on a few trips in January when Kins was 8 months and it was a nightmare. She couldn’t sit still; she wanted to be moving constantly and was into everything. It took all I had to hold onto her and keep her occupied. See, Kins is a great sleeper, really, when she’s at home in her crib. Otherwise, say goodnight Dick. Needless to say, I was spent and with all that was changing in our lives during the month of January, my anxiety meter was off the charts. So, I said no to flying. No more. Not now. Not ever maybe. I needed a break.

Then we got this awesome opportunity to go to Boston, and with the encouragement and support of every mother I knew, I went. And it was amazing. She did great flying. I think it was because of everyone praying, truly. But it was like a whole new experience. I had a new sense of courage and freedom to fly with a little one.

This past week we went to Seattle to celebrate Kinsley’s first birthday with our family and friends. The trip there went smoothly, but the trip home, well, that was another story. Not that Kins cried the whole time or was even that fussy. I’ve been on flights before where babies cry the entire time, and my heart just breaks for the baby and the mother. I mean, what can you do?

No, Kins is actually really great, she just is an active girl who wants to see and play with everyone. There’s way too much to explore, so there is no time for sleep in her book. Which would be fine if it were just a two hour endeavor, but oh no. Maui is a full 6 hours from Seattle. 6 HOURS. With a baby on your lap. In your arms. CLOSE UP PEOPLE.

However, I have found the secret. LISTEN. THIS WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE.

THE ERGO.

That’s right. The baby carrier. I just strap that bad boy around my waist, and as soon as we’re up in the air, I strap her in. And it’s a miracle worker. She can still move around, but is somewhat confined and I have TWO- count them TWO- arms to freely eat, or even read a book.

It’s worked like a charm. However, on this last flight, things got a little messy.

We get up in the air, I nurse Kins, thinking she’ll fall fast asleep. And she does. Sweet girl. But her feet are dangling just a little too over my lap, and 10 minutes after she has fallen fast asleep, the stewardess comes by with their bulky cart, yelling at the top of her lungs “Digi player, digi player, get your digi player!” Okay, not really. But when you have a baby sleeping, everyone sounds like their yelling! The cart bumps her in the feet, and she’s wide awake.

10 MINUTES? NO!

So we play a little bit, I strap her into the baby carrier, and start to rock her and sing to her, and she finally falls asleep again. Bless. There is nothing better than when she falls asleep on my chest. I could stay there all day. But alas, 30 minutes later, she’s wide-awake, ready to get the party started.

I have to go to the bathroom, so thinking I’m the all amazing woman, I shrug off handing her off to Jeff, and just leave her in the carrier as I walk up to the bathroom.

YOU KNOW YOU’RE UP FOR THE BEST MOTHER AWARD WHEN YOU CAN PEE WITH A BABY STRAPPED ONTO YOU.

And I did. But when I got up, I had forgotten one thing. The long, thick strap that goes around my waist. Oh yes. It was wet. Apparently it had taken a nice dip in the toilet.

Strike 1.

Well, I get back to my seat and time goes by. Kinsley plays with the sweet older couple sitting behind us. The grandpa pulls out his dentures for her to giggle. They pass her around. She can’t stop staring at them. They melt.

Jeff and I down our huli huli chicken. We split our cheese and fruit plates. I give some to Kins. Cheese smears all over her clothes and mouth.

I take a drink of my ginger ale, and Kins sees the glistening liquid and jiggling ice cubes, reaches for it. Splash. All over Jeff and my shoes.

Strike 2.

By this time Kins is getting a little fussy, so I strap her back into the wonder-machine thinking she’ll be ready for another nap. An hour later she’s still wide-awake.

So, I take out her fruit pouch, and let her go to town. Half way through though, she starts to spit it up. It’s her new thing. When she’s done eating, she’ll just take a bite and then spit it out. So, needless to say, fruit smoothie splatters all over the baby carrier. She keeps holding onto the pouch as I try to wipe it up with a wet wipe. She then proceeds to fling it around, fruit smoothie flying everywhere. Splatters down the aisle. In her hair. On the blanket. More on the baby carrier. It takes everything I have to clean it up AND grab it from her.

Strike 3.

Well, by this time this mama needs a break. So I hand her off to Jeff, and head up to the bathroom. (Can I get an amen for bathroom breaks mamas!?)

I get up the bathroom, and then realize, my bottom has a HUGE wet spot on it. Suddenly I feel like I’m in junior high again. How did this happen!? And what even is it!? I keep asking myself if I somehow peed my pants. I mean, this bladder is no longer reliable after child labor friends. After 3 minutes I realize that can’t be it, it’s on my booty. I didn’t spill water. And that ginger ale went on my feet, not on the seat. Who knows!? Just chalk that one up to being a mom.

Strike 4.

Well finally we started to descend. It couldn’t come sooner. I mean, I love my little girl. ADORE her and love her to the moon and back. But when you’ve been holding her and trying to entertain and feed her for the past 6 hours, with no breaks, and with cheese and fruit and who knows what smeared all over yourself and your little girl- you are ready to be home.

So, there it is. Flying with a one year old. It’s totally worth it. And I’m so thankful to be able to fly IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN, 30,000 FEET UP IN THE AIR so I can go see family and friends. I love that I get to experience it all with Kinsley. And the reality is, regardless of the mess, and the exhaustion, I so cherish those moments that I get to spend with her. That I get to enter her world and soak her up. I’m learning that the messes don’t matter. They just make me take life a little less seriously. This girl keeps me on my toes and although I’m not ready for another flight anytime soon, I still would do it all over again to be with her and see our family and friends.

What tips do you mamas have for flying with the littles? Any funny memories to share?