So, remember how I said that if I had any great tips about flying solo with a toddler I’d pass them on? I have one:
I think it was just a “perfect storm” situation of Badger being just the wrong age — too big (MUCH too big) for either of us to be comfortable in an airline seat, too wiggly to be interested in books/coloring/felt boards for more than a moment or two at a time, too little to understand it would eventually be over. Add to that completely full flights, grumpy and unhelpful flight attendants, airline seats so cramped that I couldn’t reach anything on the floor or put down the tray table or nurse my baby without her kicking my seat-mate and giving everyone a look-see (although at that point I would have stripped off and danced the hula if it would have put her to sleep), and my complete failure to eat anything on the flight home, resulting in a total caffeine-withdrawal, migraine, near-vomiting, crying (both of us) meltdown. My wonderful, long-suffering husband had to leave work early to collect me from the airport because I could no more haul baby and bags home alone on the subway than turn around and fly back to Idaho on my own wings.
So besides that, it was great.
Okay — it really was great. We had a fantastic time in Idaho, I had some time off (read TWO BOOKS!), got to visit with family and my cat and my personal possessions (including my toilets that flush and my water that tastes not like a swimming pool), Badger FINALLY learned to go down stairs and was a wealth of adorable moments (a favorite: her tearing around the airports saying “bye bye e’rbubby”) and it was well worth it. The flights were a misery, but they’re over and I learned something, even if it was to never, never, never fly solo with a baby again. So it’s all to the good.