Piccolino is visiting his father's homeland right now. We left Raleigh yesterday morning and got in to Salt Lake City about 8 hours after that. On our second flight, we sat next to a very attractive lady with a nearly 2 year old in her lap. I WAS TERRIFIED.
Many of you know that I am a baby magnet. On a plane, I will ALWAYS end up near the child who is inconsolable because of popped ears or thinking that cheerio volleyball is an appropriate way to spend the duration of the flight. While I fully understand the right of the family unit, in part or in whole, to use air transportation, I always wonder at their ability to pick the seat next to me. I still have those same concerns and reservations, but now, I have the added terror of knowing that I, one day in a future not as distant as I thought it would be, will have the pleasure of disturbing some young academic during a flight with my offspring. Needless to say, seeing the toe-headed little boy next to me was not exciting to my soul.
He started off chanting "Stuck... stuck... stuck... stuck..." and his mother reassured him that was the point - he should be stuck in the seat with her until they got to see grandma. Every reiteration of that word "Stuck" in 23.5 month old little boy dialect tore into the wound of fear and anxiety that is currently adorning my psyche. Takeoff was the usual wrestling match/popped ear tragedy/excitedly loud exclamations that led me to believe I would NOT be developing any maternal instincts during this trip. However, this attractive woman with the Blonde son was quite the surprise.
She had implements to keep him from kicking me and was able to direct a child without full understanding to stop what he was doing. She provided him with access to "the Wiggles" and other non-invasive enjoyments and even (brace yourself) GOT HIM TO TAKE AN AFTERNOON NAP THAT LASTED MORE THAN HALF THE PLANE RIDE!
As we spoke to each other during various phases of the takeoff, flight, and landing, I learned that she was an Air Force brat, having spent most of her life in Germany. She became a teacher in DODDS schools and returned there, where she met her husband, who was recently deployed AGAIN to Afghanistan, despite being labeled "undeployable." He left her with a gift, though: she was 5 weeks pregnant. We discussed growing up military, practiced our German, talked about how we wanted our kids to have the same benefits our childhood afforded us, the effects of altitude change on early pregnancy symptoms, and my fears that my child would be a terrible traveler.
Before deplaning, I told her of my previous nervousness. I told her that traveling with a child (which will be unavoidable for us, as our families are spread very far apart) was one of my top 5 things I did not want to have to do, but that being with her son and her was an incredible encouragement. She told me some of her secrets, which include just doing it frequently enough that the child has no choice but to acclimate and participate.
Now, I sit with my husband in a coffee house in a very trendy portion of downtown Salt Lake City. It is quiet. I have been able to get some work done and will be able to bill while I am here. I know these moments are coming to a close. I know that the peace we shared while watching a favorite show on his laptop as we soared at 30,000 feet will probably not occur for several years to come. Being with his family and meeting other people along the way who know what they're doing are starting to make it all feel better... After spending the evening watching my beautiful sister in law try on wedding dresses while laughing with 2 other sisters in law and a sweet mother in law, I'm convinced our sacrifices will be worth it.
Our poor child, though, is being born into a seemingly predestined role once again: Get ready, Piccolino... we're traveling!
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