How to: Fly with an Infant

The first time we ever flew somewhere with Asher, he was 6 weeks old and had both parents on hand. Our pediatrician gave us this suggestion: "Take twice as much stuff as you think you need--bottles, toys, diapers, tylenol. Be prepared for anything." The trip was uneventful, so we hauled around a ton of stuff that we didn't end up using...but I was definitely prepared for anything.

I've flown by myself with Asher twice since then (once to Florida and once to Alabama), and let me tell you--it's a whole different ball game when you don't have the other parent (or even just another adult with functioning arms) to hand the baby to. Roomy family restrooms are nice for changing diapers, but what do you do with the baby when YOU need to pee? (The answer is "hold them." Weird and gross.) How do you manage to get through security when you have to take the baby out of the carrier or stroller and hold him WHILE you fold everything up and put it on the xray belt? (The answer is "slowly, and with much perspiration and under-your-breath swearing.") And eating? Just forget about eating. Think of it as a way to shed some of the unwanted postpartum poundage.

But the mother of all questions is, WHAT in the name of everything holy do you do with a baby who cries THE ENTIRE TIME they are on the airplane?

Oh, I was prepared. I had every single one of Asher's favorite toys. I had teething rings and bottles and pacifiers galore. I bounced him, rocked him, sang to him (another bonus for the people around me), offered him cash, and prayed.

Nothing worked.

I apologized over and over again to the people sitting next to me, but what good did that do? You know what it's like to be trapped at 35,000 feet with a screaming infant writhing in his desperate mother's arms...I'm pretty sure that was one of the circles of hell described by Dante in The Inferno.

So what did I do? I ate a York Peppermint Patty. And as I crumpled the empty wrapper in my hand, ready to stuff it into the seat pocket in front of me, Asher stopped whimpering. He looked at me, and looked at my hand. I gave him the wrapper. And for the final 30 minutes of the flight, having rejected every.single.toy.he.owns, my darling child played with the shiny silver wrapper shucked from my peppermint patty.

On the flight home, Asher had both parents at his disposal again. Both parents, and a crinkly wrapper from his daddy's Mike-N-Ikes. He was a happy camper. Fly-er. Whatever.

So, my revised travel tips go something like this: Buy your favorite candy bar at the shop across from your gate. Eat the candy and give your kid the wrapper. Enjoy the flight. You may never buy another toy again.

Mom: It's just another word for "Sucker."

I don't know what it is about being a mom that makes us particularly susceptible to buying products that would, pre-baby, have been labeled "a total waste of money," "silly," "gross," and/or "absolutely terrifying." Perhaps it's that perfect mixture of pervasive guilt, overwhelming love, liquefied mommy brains, extreme sleep-deprivation, and a tendency toward retail therapy that makes us the perfect target for marketers of freaky baby stuff. I don't know. All I know is that this stuff scares/grosses the crap out of me (kind of like Goosey Goosey Gander).

Zaky Infant Pillow ($49.95)

I don't even know where to begin. I guess people will do just about anything to help their baby fall asleep...even if that means cradling him in a muppet's amputated hands. According to the folks who manufacture this little wonder, "The Zaky is designed to imitate the look and feel of a parent’s hand and forearm." Um, excuse me. My hand is not equipped with ginormous kielbasa fingers, thankyouverymuch.

The Original Baby Bullet (4 easy payments of $19.95)

OK, so this product isn't actually scary or gross (it's just a food processor), but the verbiage is a little...off. Behold, the specially patented Baby Blend Blade! It's just what you need for...blending babies? Not to mention the name of the product suggests loading a baby into a gun. I'm pretty sure that's illegal.

Metallica Lullabies ($14.29)
Finally, I can soothe my baby to sleep with the dulcet tones of the same rage-filled music that has been the soundtrack for the lives of countless disaffected Emo/Goth teens! Exit light...enter night. Almost as good as "Rock-a-Bye Baby" with its falling cradles and whatnot.

The Snotsucker ($15.00)

When Asher got his first cold, I was all like, "HE CAN'T BREATHE THROUGH HIS NOSE THE WORLD IS COMING TO AN END I'M THE WORST MOTHER EVER!" And that feeling, my friends, will cause you to buy anything. Even something as disgusting as this--the Mom/Sucker case in point (literally?). I actually own one of these. It isn't nearly as gross as it sounds/looks, and this apparatus actually works much better than the bulbs they give you at the hospital. BUT it is something I would have never, ever considered buying--much less traveling specifically to Whole Foods (about 40 minutes away) just to find it--before becoming a mom. My pediatrician recommended it, so...I bought it. Of course.

Pacifier Teeth ($3.80)

I've actually seen babies sporting the pacifiers that make them look like they have buck teeth...a little silly, but when you spend your days changing poopie diapers, saying the word "poopie" more than you ever imagined you would, and wondering if you'll ever shower again, you get your jollies where you can, I suppose, even if it is at the expense of your child. But a pacifier with vampire teeth? Curse you, Stephanie Meyer.

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Say your prayers...OR ELSE

There are a number of nursery rhymes that I find...questionable. "Rub a dub dub, three men in a tub..." Really? That sounds like the beginning of an adult film. And how about the old woman who lived in the shoe? First of all, she lives in a SHOE. Then she doesn't give her kids anything to eat, and she beats them. Old Mother Hubbard? PETA and the SPCA are looking for you, lady. Great bedtime reading.

Well, I have an entire book of these little gems, and we can just add this one to the list: Goosey Goosey Gander. For those of you who may not be familiar:

Goosey Goosey Gander
whither shall I wander?
Upstairs, downstairs,
and in my lady's chamber.

There I met an old man
who wouldn't say his prayers.
I took him by the left leg
and threw him down the stairs.

WHAT?!? OK, first of all, who is the speaker in this little ditty? Is this a conversation between a person and a goose? Here's how I see it: Dude asks Goose a question, and Goose responds with the story of his violent interlude with the pagan old man. (What was the author SMOKING?)

What was the old man doing in the lady's chamber (besides not saying his prayers)? Sounds pretty creepy to me. And exactly how does a goose seize someone by the leg with enough force and leverage to throw said person down the stairs? Keep in mind...you're supposed to read this little rhyme TO YOUR CHILDREN.

Is this supposed to encourage children to say their prayers? Because fear--fear of psychotic ageist geese--is the greatest motivator.

How to be a Perfect Parent

When we brought the little man home from the hospital, I was certain that, if we held him all the time, he would never be able to go to sleep unless he was in someone's arms...so I made everyone (all the grandparents) routinely put him in his bassinet to sleep. And I made sure that he stayed awake, just for a few minutes, after every feeding, so he wouldn't associate eating with going to sleep and therefore need to eat in order to fall asleep. I freaked out when lights and/or the television was on at night, because he might get his days and nights mixed up.

Add all that to a heaping pile of postpartum depression and you can imagine how fun it was to be at my house after the baby came home!

Being a parent involves the steepest learning curve I have ever experienced, and the training is completely on-the-job. Six months have passed, and I'm not as crazy as I was. I've gotten a handle on some things. I've read lots of books and listened to lots of moms. And here is what I've figured out:

1. NEVER co-sleep with your baby. You will make him dependent on you to fall asleep, and you and your husband will never again have the bed to yourselves. Your child will sleep there until he moves away to college. Good luck having another kid.
2. NEVER let your baby sleep in his crib, in his room, all alone. He will feel abandoned and unloved. You won't be able to sleep because you will be wracked with guilt over abandoning your baby. Your child will miss out on the trust and attachment that is crucial to his emotional development at this age. He will probably become Goth/Emo as a teenager.
3. NEVER pick up your baby the first time he cries. He needs to learn to self-soothe, or else you will find yourself cuddling a sobbing 18-year-old at his high school graduation ceremony. You will ruin any chance he has at a stable, non-codependent relationship.
4. NEVER let your baby cry. Cry-it-out methods have been shown to create lasting psychological damage in mothers and children. If you let your baby cry, you are essentially saying to him, "I don't care." You'll most likely turn your child into a sociopath. Way to go, mom.
5. NEVER give a breastfed baby a bottle or a pacifier. He will fall victim to "nipple confusion" and you won't be able to breastfeed any more, which means your baby will develop allergies and probably syphilis.

There you go. Hope that was helpful.