Recently my husband and I took our little babe on an airplane for the first time. Needless to say, we were both very nervous and not looking forward to that experience. While eager to have her hang with her grandparents and meet her cousins, we were convinced it would be a total shit show.
The Cobbs before take off, bracing themselves!
Because flying typically sucks anyway, my old man and I always have a bit of a routine. We get to the airport a little too late, talk shit about all the people who bring way too many bags to check (Jesus, lady, it's a three hour flight from LA to Memphis, why are you checking 14 moving boxes?!), talk a little more shit about the asshole in front of us in the security line who can't seem to remember to take out his laptop before going though the metal detector, and is baffled and offended that they made him throw out his practically empty water bottle, (Dude, you're 40, how do you not know how to get of a goddamn airplane?!), then run to the closest bar to get a $17 bloody Mary and drink away our feelings of regret. It's fun to have traditions!
This time we didn't do that due to having our offspring with us, so we were carrying way too many things to casually hop on a bar stool and chug a spicy alcoholic drink. There is nothing worse that not being able to get the bartenders attention because the assholes who brought their kid into the bar had to basically set up a nursery in order to keep the kiddo quiet.
We were very lucky had the luxury of being able to get her her own seat, so she got to chill in her car seat the entire flight. As we were waiting to pre-board (which is def a check in the ole' "pro" column if you're perched on the parenting fence) Bo decided it was a good time to scare the bajesus out of all our fellow passengers but throwing a bit of a fit. The looks of hatred I felt burrowing into the back of my skull that day left a bald spot. We braced ourselves and boarded.
Now before I continue with the results of that first flight, I'd like to comment on this trend of parents bribing fellow passengers on flights with little pre-made gift bags of candy or gum or ear plugs, along with a note from the baby that says "Hi, my name is Max, and I'm 5 months old! This is my first flight, so I may get upset when the plane goes up and down because my ears hurt, OW! I'm sorry if I cry but I hope this bag of crap and how adorable I am makes up for the fact that the next several hours will be some of the worst of your entire life. Love, This Baby"
The truth is, even if a baby who could write notes and put together gift bags had given one of those to me prior to be having my Bo, I'd still be super annoyed being next to a crying baby and I would angrily chew my gum and eat that candy and shove those plugs in my ears in perfect time to my eye rolling and hating. Because before I had my kid I was a giant, selfish dick bag who thought that I deserved a better experience than everyone else. You know who else is like that? The entire planet. And you should be! When you don't have kids you're supposed to be selfish! It's your job!
Clearly we didn't do any of those little bribe bags, or even pre-apologize with a down cast shameful look as we made our way to our seats. Because guess what? She's a baby, and she may cry and she may not. And if I could, I would go back in time to tell my past self to stop being such a twat and read your damn Tiger Beat, or whatever you kids were into those days.
Anyway, we boarded and we got her squared away in her seat. We had all the accoutrements ready to go: Binky, check! Water, check! Books, check! Snacks, check, check, check! Headphones for me, check! Credit card in my hand the second the drink cart comes along to get myself some whiskey, check!
We start our ascent and I watch my kid ready for that sweet face to crumble into ear piercing screams and....nothing. Not a peep. The entire flight! And let me tell you, we were friggin' celebrities coming off that plane! People were stopping us at the baggage claim, shaking our hands, cooing at Bo. Telling us how amazing she was, and how great we are with her. She was a rock star. I thought how on earth could I ever have doubted this perfect angel! She's clearly advanced and very mature, and understood that the plane was depressurizing and if she swallowed or used her Binky, everything would be OK. "Oh mother and father, worry not!" she said, "for I am that best baby in the whole world!"
My angel mid first flight
Until the flight home.
Which sucked.
So, so much.
Bo having none of this early morning flight BS prior to the second one.
She cried from take off to touch down. It was one of those terrible super early morning flights where no one has brushed their teeth yet and instantly take off their shoes, so everything smelled like feet and plaque. Nothing we did could soothe her, nothing we did would please her. She was straight up pissed.
Everyone around us would either avoid eye contact, or stare right at us, screaming with their eyes, "You are clearly pieces of shit parents, which why your child is behaving this way at 5:50am! I have half a mind to call CPS as soon as I can take my phone off of airplane mode!" The family sitting in front of us kept farting and farting and farting. Intentional, angry gasses spewing from their butts like the fire from an elderly Dragon. It was like being shot by fart bullets while being trapped in a Genies bottle; no where to run, no where to hide.
The Cobbs being pummeled with farts.
But...She did her best, and at 16 months, she was such a trooper on no sleep and clogged ears. She was so tired and mad, and cute and sweet. She's my little bug. And during that flight at the height of her crying and screams, when the glares and farts rained down on us like a monsoon out of hell, I leaned over to her closely so that my face was touching her, and I whispered.
"You're the best baby in the whole world."
Because flying typically sucks anyway, my old man and I always have a bit of a routine. We get to the airport a little too late, talk shit about all the people who bring way too many bags to check (Jesus, lady, it's a three hour flight from LA to Memphis, why are you checking 14 moving boxes?!), talk a little more shit about the asshole in front of us in the security line who can't seem to remember to take out his laptop before going though the metal detector, and is baffled and offended that they made him throw out his practically empty water bottle, (Dude, you're 40, how do you not know how to get of a goddamn airplane?!), then run to the closest bar to get a $17 bloody Mary and drink away our feelings of regret. It's fun to have traditions!
This time we didn't do that due to having our offspring with us, so we were carrying way too many things to casually hop on a bar stool and chug a spicy alcoholic drink. There is nothing worse that not being able to get the bartenders attention because the assholes who brought their kid into the bar had to basically set up a nursery in order to keep the kiddo quiet.
We were very lucky had the luxury of being able to get her her own seat, so she got to chill in her car seat the entire flight. As we were waiting to pre-board (which is def a check in the ole' "pro" column if you're perched on the parenting fence) Bo decided it was a good time to scare the bajesus out of all our fellow passengers but throwing a bit of a fit. The looks of hatred I felt burrowing into the back of my skull that day left a bald spot. We braced ourselves and boarded.
Now before I continue with the results of that first flight, I'd like to comment on this trend of parents bribing fellow passengers on flights with little pre-made gift bags of candy or gum or ear plugs, along with a note from the baby that says "Hi, my name is Max, and I'm 5 months old! This is my first flight, so I may get upset when the plane goes up and down because my ears hurt, OW! I'm sorry if I cry but I hope this bag of crap and how adorable I am makes up for the fact that the next several hours will be some of the worst of your entire life. Love, This Baby"
The truth is, even if a baby who could write notes and put together gift bags had given one of those to me prior to be having my Bo, I'd still be super annoyed being next to a crying baby and I would angrily chew my gum and eat that candy and shove those plugs in my ears in perfect time to my eye rolling and hating. Because before I had my kid I was a giant, selfish dick bag who thought that I deserved a better experience than everyone else. You know who else is like that? The entire planet. And you should be! When you don't have kids you're supposed to be selfish! It's your job!
Clearly we didn't do any of those little bribe bags, or even pre-apologize with a down cast shameful look as we made our way to our seats. Because guess what? She's a baby, and she may cry and she may not. And if I could, I would go back in time to tell my past self to stop being such a twat and read your damn Tiger Beat, or whatever you kids were into those days.
Anyway, we boarded and we got her squared away in her seat. We had all the accoutrements ready to go: Binky, check! Water, check! Books, check! Snacks, check, check, check! Headphones for me, check! Credit card in my hand the second the drink cart comes along to get myself some whiskey, check!
We start our ascent and I watch my kid ready for that sweet face to crumble into ear piercing screams and....nothing. Not a peep. The entire flight! And let me tell you, we were friggin' celebrities coming off that plane! People were stopping us at the baggage claim, shaking our hands, cooing at Bo. Telling us how amazing she was, and how great we are with her. She was a rock star. I thought how on earth could I ever have doubted this perfect angel! She's clearly advanced and very mature, and understood that the plane was depressurizing and if she swallowed or used her Binky, everything would be OK. "Oh mother and father, worry not!" she said, "for I am that best baby in the whole world!"
Until the flight home.
Which sucked.
So, so much.
She cried from take off to touch down. It was one of those terrible super early morning flights where no one has brushed their teeth yet and instantly take off their shoes, so everything smelled like feet and plaque. Nothing we did could soothe her, nothing we did would please her. She was straight up pissed.
Everyone around us would either avoid eye contact, or stare right at us, screaming with their eyes, "You are clearly pieces of shit parents, which why your child is behaving this way at 5:50am! I have half a mind to call CPS as soon as I can take my phone off of airplane mode!" The family sitting in front of us kept farting and farting and farting. Intentional, angry gasses spewing from their butts like the fire from an elderly Dragon. It was like being shot by fart bullets while being trapped in a Genies bottle; no where to run, no where to hide.
But...She did her best, and at 16 months, she was such a trooper on no sleep and clogged ears. She was so tired and mad, and cute and sweet. She's my little bug. And during that flight at the height of her crying and screams, when the glares and farts rained down on us like a monsoon out of hell, I leaned over to her closely so that my face was touching her, and I whispered.
"You're the best baby in the whole world."
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