When my mom friends talked of traveling strategies—wheels for car seats, the roomiest diaper bags—I tuned out. My strategy was not to travel with my daughter, Celia. Ever. If friends and relatives wanted to see her, they could come to Atlanta.
Then, we got a late-night phone call letting us know my husband’s stepfather had died. My husband’s family lives on Long Island, and the only way to get there from here was by plane. Jason thought of going by himself, but I had a feeling I would regret it forever, seeing as I was acutely aware when my father died of who attended his funeral and who didn’t.
Also, I knew Celia, eleven months and five teeth, would bring joy to her grieving grandma, aunt, uncle, cousin, and other relatives. Babies have that effect on people.
So, we booked a flight. You have to be an heiress or a dot-com millionaire to afford a last-minute ticket to Long Island’s Islip airport, so we reluctantly flew into LaGuardia. We borrowed some wheels to attach to Celia’s convertible car seat and toted five bags stuffed with baby gear, funeral clothes, two computers, and the usual random items you think you can’t live without. In retrospect, the most absurd item I brought was a book, Birth of Venus, which I’ve been trying to read for a year. Moms who travel with babies do not catch up on reading. This I now know.
We were so nervous about bringing Celia on a plane, and my husband, Jason, had his own fears. He gave up flying after a scary flight in 1999, so he had not experienced the post-9/11 airport scenario. We did not allot the recommended two hours to get through security and to our gate, which left us rushing through the Atlanta airport pushing a baby stroller, dragging the car seat, and lugging our ridiculous quantities of carry-on luggage. I felt like a fool.
But I was a fool with a trump card. Parents with babies in strollers get to cut the security line. I didn’t know the drill for getting through security with a baby. I’m sure the unfortunate travelers behind us in line are regaling their friends with the story of the idiots who didn’t know they had to take their baby out of the stroller to get through the metal detectors.
