I am flying to Idaho on Wednesday.
A large, very physical 1.5 year old who is still nursing. Often.
On my lap.
I’m saying all this in hopes that maybe it will sink in before Wednesday.
I’m doing all the usual stuff people recommend for traveling with toddlers, but in the back of my mind there’s a “fiddling while Rome burns” feeling. Sure, you can bring snacks and have new toys and DVDs for the laptop (I am slightly proud of myself that all I’ve bought for the trip is a set of kid’s headphones — I can be a ‘throw money at it’-type when I get freaked out). I’ve found any number of helpful hints on the internet — I’ll be sure to share if any of them turn out to work.
But honestly, you know and I know that it’s going to be a disaster. A cross-country flight is misery for a grown person who knows what’s going on and is there by choice — how much more so for a kid who just wants to run around and holler at the top of her lungs and throw Cheerios?
But all this back-hand ‘I’ve got it all together and oh my poor baby’ business is really just a fig leaf for my real anxiety: is the person sitting next to me going to be awful? I’ve been pretty lucky so far in this department when I’ve flown with Badger, but this is our first long solo flight and I’m freaked that I’m going to be sitting next to someone staring daggers and sighing (or making horrible comments) for three hours while Badger nurses and yells and jumps up and down and kicks them.
Okay, deep breaths. We will be fine. It might be okay, and even if it isn’t, this too shall pass. And I get to see my family and look at this view for a week:
So really it could be worse.