Why I will Never Fly With A Baby Again

It’s been so long since I’ve blogged that I forgot my password!  Shame on me.  I suppose I’ve been annoyed by this unexpected pregnancy and didn’t want to whine every day about it.

I just got back from a two week vacation in Vermont.  Plenty to blog about there!  Crack houses, park benches, sweating, bad food, good beer, and fat clothes.  I’ll get there.

First I want to say that I VOW on my eternal soul not to ever fly with a baby again.

That bad?

Yes.

This is what I was hoping it would look like:

IMG_0235

I didn’t take a picture of what it turned out to be like because he was too busy putting oranges in my hair and shrieking at the top of his lungs or kicking the person sitting ahead of him because there is NO ROOM TO PUT A CAR SEAT IN AN AIRPLANE SEAT.  She couldn’t lean her seat back and his feet were resting on the back of her seat and it’s way too much fun to kick and kick and kick and shriek.

There’s really no place to change a diaper either so I changed him while he was strapped into his car seat which took some magic and some swearing but got done.  Not pretty.

The seats on Southwest are so close together that I couldn’t hold him on my lap, my very tiny lap as my belly sticks out now.  If I was two inches talled my knees would have been jammed into the seat in front of me as well.  I wonder about how people like my very tall father are ever going to fly again.

I should have taken a picture of myself when we arrived at the Denver airport.  I was planning on having a crying meltdown and not caring how many people saw, but some idiot was two hours late picking us up and had his phone off and I didn’t want to scare the kids by crying instead of trying to come up with a plan to drive the 8 hours home by myself.

EEEEEEEEhhhhhhh, I’m still whining.   Sorry.

 

 

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