First Class, Baby (Part IV: Ten Tips for Traveling Alone with Infants and Other Dangerous Cargo)

On Christmas day I crossed the border and got my Green Card. Yes! We're home now (the new home, in San Francisco, where I live with my husband and son) and I've had a few days to look back and reflect on my six-week window into life as the single, itinerant mother of a ten month-old named after a Mojave desert plant.

Ocotillo, Mojave desert false cactus

What did I learn?

Oh, lots of things. Like how old unmarried men are drawn to young (presumably) unwed mothers like old unmarried moths to an insta-family flame. And how tough it is to be a single mom -- to be the only person who could possibly take the baby for his night-time walk and rush him to the toilet at six am and then boil some organic prunes without forgetting about them on the stove for two hours. I value my family and friends in a whole new way.

But the really important thing I learned was how to travel with a baby. Sweet Baby James has taken eight flights in his short life; he's also taken one VIA train ride, two commuter trains and countless buses, subways, a boat, cars... he even climbed a motorcycle for the purposes of taking a picture.

Here's how I do it.

Ten Tips for Traveling Alone with Infants and Other Dangerous Cargo

1. Ditch the stroller. It is not easier to push your baby in front of you when you're also dragging a piece of luggage behind you and the diaper bag is falling off your shoulder. Plus, you have to take the baby out of the stroller when you're going through security, and again when you fold it up to store it when you get to the plane/train. Babywearing, on the other hand, rocks. You can leave the baby in the carrier when you walk through security, though the guard will stop you to wipe your hands for explosives (not the pooping kind, unfortunately). Babywearing will also save you when baby's fussing and you need to walk up and down the aisles. Plus, bored strangers are less likely to assault (read: try to pick up and cuddle) your baby up if he/she's in a carrier. I like my ring-sling because it also doubles as a blanket when baby goes to sleep (that's a lie, he never goes to sleep). Mine are home-made but they look like the Maya Wrap:
   
   
   ***Airports are also great places to check out the hottest in babywearing fashion. See the airport posts on Too Hot For Stroller!
   
2. Pack light. Lighter than you ever thought you could. They probably have diapers, wipes, burpee cloths, nursing pads and other necessities where you are going. Just bring what you need for your travel time plus 24 hours (in case of delays) and find a pharmacy first thing when you wake up the next day.
   
3. That said, having a portable changing pad/diaper kit really comes in handy. Public restrooms should have clean and safe baby changing facilities, but they don't. It drives me crazy (see photos: www.mamactivism.wordpress.com). This is what my Skip Hop portable changing station looks like:
4. Pack even lighter. Yes, babies love to play with stuff but it doesn't have to be the locally-made, ethically produced organic toys they're familiar with. Your host's measuring cups, colander, coffee tin, old comb, recycling, etc. are all great options and you can leave them behind guilt-free. If someone decides to laden you with gifts (and they will), ship them home.
   
5. Don't waste time trying to get baby to keep his hands to himself. OK so airplanes are nastydirty and the windows on the bus are grimygross. But the constant vigilance it will require and the fight that might ensue between you and the baby just isn't worth it. Pack some diaper wipes. Keep them at hand so you can wipe his. Think about all the immunities he's building.
   
6. Accept Help. Your host wants to help you to the station? The airline allows you to board early? That withered old man is going to attempt to haul your suitcase up the stairs? Let people help because it makes them feel good. If help isn't forthcoming, politely ask for assistance. You are transporting the future of the world in your arms and they are rushing home to catch a Friends re-run.
   
7. Make friends with the flight attendants. These are people who can make or break your journey and -- what luck -- they've made a career out of being helpful and cooing at infants! (they also watch out for thousands of people's safety -- and Alec "not a very unselfish man" Baldwin -- but that's another matter). When you're boarding the plane, pause and say hello, ask them how their day's going; show them your adorable little bundle. Then show them your boarding pass so they direct you to your seat. This way they know how to find you and shower you with attention: I had flight attendants offer to hold and carry the baby when I had to go pee; give me free meals, blankets and bottles of water; invite me to their gourmet first nations restaurant, stow my luggage at the front of the plane, let me change the baby in the first class toilet, and take pictures of us. Win!

   

   Our First VIA Train: taken by the ever-lovely attendant, Rachel

8. Wear slip-on shoes. You have to take off your footwear at security these days. Boots with laces mean sitting down (as if there's a chair available) and bending over to get them off. Babies in carriers don't like it when you sit down and they hate it when you bend over. I know because I made the mistake of wearing my new boots because I was too lazy to carry them. It sucked.
   
9. Carry written and notarized permission from the baby's other parent if you're crossing an international border. I forgot this and just barely squeaked into Canada. "Um, my husband knows I'm taking the baby to Montreal, I promise..." doesn't always cut it. You might also need a copy of the baby's birth certificate to prove that the person who gave permission is in fact the baby's other mama/papa.
   
10. Don't worry about sticking to a routine. Traditional parenting philosophy predicts disaster (danger, danger, high voltage!) when a routine gets thrown off. But flight attendants were asking me, "Is your baby always this good?" and I don't think they were just being nice. Baby needs to know that although everything else is changing, you're there and not going anywhere (without her). I tried to focus on reading Sweet Baby James' cues and providing for them. It was more important to me that he feel content and comfortable than that he finish his breakfast (even if I had been burning cooking those damn prunes for two hours). He napped when he wanted to, nursed when he wanted to, alternately charmed or rebuffed strangers when he wanted to.
    Aside from the non-negotiable enactment of regular diaper changes, I let SBJ be the boss of SBJ. Even when he was a jerk and refused to engage in the best dual-baby-wearing-mama photo op ever.

www.toohotforstroller.wordpress.com

The long and the short of it is that traveling with a baby can be fun. I felt like Sweet Baby James and I bonded in a whole new way when he managed to intimidate his sweet two-year-old cousin and not to poop in the middle of my visa interview. It felt exciting, liberating... Sometimes when we were roaming the streets late at night, whether attempting to find our next destination or just a moment's calm respite, I imagined we were following the steps of our nomadic ancestors. I am mama, hear me roar.

First Class, Baby (Part II)

Last week I wrote about our adventures with poop in the first class washroom of an Air Canada flight. This week the odyssey continues with a business class ticket to Toronto aboard the once-illustrious VIA Rail.

In booking my ticket I was pleasantly surprised to find that the first class ticket on Saturday cost the same as the economy class ticket on Friday (OK, it cost ten bucks more). I wasn't sure about the social etiquette of traveling with a pre-verbal infant who hates sitting still so I asked my aunt.
"Philippa," I said, "Do you think it's rude for me to take a baby in first class?"
"I wouldn't think so," she said.
"I mean, I'm pretty sure he'd be quiet, but... It's just not done, I don't think."
"Well, Svea, you should do what you're comfortable with," she said.

I decided to do it. Because, hey, what I'm comfortable with is riding in the lap of luxury. And I wanted to see if it was still a luxury experience with a 25 pound baby on my lap, several stains down the front of my shirt (milk, OJ, unidentified black shmutz, more milk) and a bag full of diapers safely stowed in the overhead compartment. I have no idea how I forgot to add "infant" to the reservation.

As usual, the afternoon of our departure I'm running late. My lovely aunt helps us to the train station. Due to some lucky metro timing we arrive with ten minutes to spare. I give her an emotional farewell (oh, the pain of saying adieu to childcare from trusted family members!) and trot down to the platform. "Oh," says the ticket-taker, "You're in Business Class!" I mean to ask him what the hell that means but instead I ask which car.

As I hurry inside trying hard to look like a Young Professional who just happens to have an infant-like goiter on my chest, the attendant comes rushing up the aisle. Certain that she's going to ask me if I'm in the 'right' *ahem* car, I try to hold my head up high while shoving our suitcase into the luggage rack. I needn't have worried. "Would you like some help with that?" she asks.

Rachel the attendant is in love with Sweet Baby James. Sometimes it's easy to tell a childless woman. The kind of woman who loves kids but would never have them, whose well-rested face lights up at the most mundane of baby tricks... Often slim, pert, looks young for her age. Let us all take a minute and pray to be assigned such an angel to watch over us during our travels.

She brings me fruit juice and extra chocolates, smiles at Sweet Baby James every time she passes and by the end of the trip is holding him as I happily rest my arms. She also brings me a pillow, a blanket, and a massive bottle of water that I still haven't finished. To my surprise, having the baby with me seems to make her like me more. I notice the curt tone she uses with other punkass-looking passengers (the drug dealer sitting behind me discussing deliveries on her cell -- also, it turns out, a mother of two -- or the inexplicable couple in front of us who never seem to say anything above a mumble) is kind of sharp. But to us she is lovely.

Rachel the attendant wanted to take a picture of us. She was that nice.

Rocked by the train's steady sway and no doubt exhausted from what has become Svea and Baby's Excellent Adventure, Sweet Baby James goes down after only 10 ants and sleeps for at least half the ride. I was not expecting this. I have come unprepared sans books, magazines or music to pass the time. I stare out the window pondering life and its vicissitudes, the beauty of a baby (my baby!) sleeping on my chest. The first time I've had nothing to do for two straight hours since I don't know when. He wakes up in time for dinner which is mashed potatoes off our complimentary roast beef entrée though what he really wants is the blueberry cheesecake (or perhaps its lid).

No poop has emanated thus far, but it's time to change the 'couche' (diaper in French, or portmanteau of c*nt and douche in street parlance, thanks urbandictionary.com) so I take baby to the restroom. What luck, there's a baby sign on the door! We make use of a decent-sized fold down changing table inside. It takes babies up to 15 kg. At 11.3, Sweet Baby James might be pushing it by the time he's out of diapers, but that won't matter because we'll be in San Francisco.

Sweet Baby James on the fold-down changing table. WIN!

I gotta say, it was pretty great. I've always enjoyed train travel and I think Sweet Baby James does too. I love it for the scenery, he for the people. What a sad day it will be when he grows up to realize that not every stewardess wants to hug you, gruff old men don't just break into smile when you start blowing raspberries, and sometimes strangers are not just friends you haven't met yet.


Tomorrow we fly to Vancouver. I'm working on a '10 Things I Learned About Traveling With a Baby' post so let me know if you have any tips. Happy trails!