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And Away We Go!

I have promised you a detailed description of our trip across the ocean, one adult, two infants who think they are adults. It actually could not have gone better but it certainly wasn’t without its hiccups. That said, I couldn’t have been more proud of my little girls. They are such wonderful babies. Of course, I’d like to take a little credit for it, but you decide.

As you know, I was unable to sprout 6 more arms so we couldn’t take the car seats and the stroller. We made it to the airport and I marched in, one suitcase, one double stroller, one diaper bag. I was flying lean. Security was a marvel; they didn’t make me take the babies out of their stroller and just did a wand search. I had the formula cans and the baby fruit separated out in baggies so no problem there. Before I knew it, we were through the first hurdle. From security, it was directly to the toy store to buy a couple new playthings that had never been seen before in case of a “boredom emergency.” Then we headed to the gate.
At the airplane, I passed one kid off to a maintenance worker while the other crawled around on the jetway and I folded the stroller. Imagine my shock/horror when maintenance tried to pass the child to the flight attendant and was refused. Virgin Atlantic flight attendants are not allowed to hold infants! What? How am I supposed to pee? I’ll tell you. I made some noise about it, and about 3 fellow passengers immediately offered to babysit should my bladder fill. Done.
Then off to our seats. Eva got strapped into an infant chair, Zoe got the seatbelt infant strap for my lap. At this point, I worked my magic wand and they both fell asleep. (Ok, really I timed take off to coincide with naptime but it was still impressive.) And I’ll pause here, Part Two to come. What have we learned so far? If you want to travel with infants, you can’t compromise safety. And you must be an incredibly anal and organized individual who Ziplocs the fruit pouches before leaving the house. Oh, and it’s okay to let your kid eat the dirt off the jetway or lick the jet fuel off a maintenance worker’s coat. Something’s gotta give.

Dr. Lara Zibners, Oct 26, 2010

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