As for security, I've long since made my peace with the fumbling to
get everything out my pockets and the groping. patting, tugging,
swabbing and back of the hand-pressing that is entailed in having a
one-on-one inspection (which is what they call a 'male assist') - such
is life when walking unaided and shoeless through the metal detector is
not a realistic option.
This left Mrs T to get herself and an essentially comatose 3 month old through security. The plus side...you know that star-jump, chest crunch type thingy they now get you to do through the detector...well they didnt make her have to do this thankfully. Nor even did she have to go through the metal detector while throwing SJ over the top of the machine having to catch him as she exited. In Mrs T's case, she was permitted to do an approximation of the star-jumpy chest-crunchy pose while still holding SJ- phew! The real down side came before all of this metal related palava. Mrs T, not only had to schlep all the luggage and things onto the conveyor, but also the stroller, since we were checking it at the cabin door. What do you do with a baby, when you need to fold the stroller and put the car seat through the scanner? in such In a sudden Hollywood-esque moment of fate, Mrs T, found herself next in line behind a rather dashing, eager to assist, airline pilot who was only too willing to 'hold the baby' whilst the stroller was folded, placed on the conveyor, and of course unfolded on the other side. Thank-goodness for hunky, helpful airline employees- oh, did I mention his wife was expecting twins?!
The feeling of '3rd wheel-ness' was not lessened once we got to the gate where SJ decided he was hungry, leaving me with nothing much to do, other than look mildly gormless being left to sit in the wheelchair which our attendant kindly left us.
She arrived again to push me down the jetty to the plane. When we left the stroller st the airport cabin door, SJ was asleep. We settled as quickly as we could given all our baby related paraphernalia (not least that both of us -according to our pre-arranged plan, were wearing baby carriers) into our bulkhead seats and the flight attendant brought the bassinet we had booked and the seat-belt extension so that SJ could be fastened into Mrs T's seat belt.
Now, as I write this with hindsight, I'm left wondering why didn't I ask for a second extension so that we had the option for SJ to also be strapped to me, freeing up Mrs T, for eating, moving around, movie watching etc? The answer is, of course, that I could have done, but that actually the pressure in those (public) situations where you are doing everything to prevent your child from causing a scene is to get everything done as quickly and efficiently as possible. Handing off SJ to me would have been a big faf, trying to attach him to me an even bigger one, essentially wasting our precious time and making him more prone to screaming.
With that, SJ happily slept and eat his way through the flight. Screaming only for the 3 minutes I was holding him so that Mrs T could take a well earned wee. All the rest of the time he was snugly attached to my better half.
There was one last moment baby related high-jinx just as we were about to get carried away with how smoothly it all had gone. That was the incredibly public wee that our darling son did, as we changed his nappy while waiting to get off the plane at Heathrow. A bigger audience of already disgruntled people he couldn't have wished for!
We were whisked through passports and baggage in much the same way as we had check in and security at the other end. To arrive in my parents words (as they met us at arrivals) 'looking all put together'.
Appearances, don't tell the whole story.
This left Mrs T to get herself and an essentially comatose 3 month old through security. The plus side...you know that star-jump, chest crunch type thingy they now get you to do through the detector...well they didnt make her have to do this thankfully. Nor even did she have to go through the metal detector while throwing SJ over the top of the machine having to catch him as she exited. In Mrs T's case, she was permitted to do an approximation of the star-jumpy chest-crunchy pose while still holding SJ- phew! The real down side came before all of this metal related palava. Mrs T, not only had to schlep all the luggage and things onto the conveyor, but also the stroller, since we were checking it at the cabin door. What do you do with a baby, when you need to fold the stroller and put the car seat through the scanner? in such In a sudden Hollywood-esque moment of fate, Mrs T, found herself next in line behind a rather dashing, eager to assist, airline pilot who was only too willing to 'hold the baby' whilst the stroller was folded, placed on the conveyor, and of course unfolded on the other side. Thank-goodness for hunky, helpful airline employees- oh, did I mention his wife was expecting twins?!
The feeling of '3rd wheel-ness' was not lessened once we got to the gate where SJ decided he was hungry, leaving me with nothing much to do, other than look mildly gormless being left to sit in the wheelchair which our attendant kindly left us.
She arrived again to push me down the jetty to the plane. When we left the stroller st the airport cabin door, SJ was asleep. We settled as quickly as we could given all our baby related paraphernalia (not least that both of us -according to our pre-arranged plan, were wearing baby carriers) into our bulkhead seats and the flight attendant brought the bassinet we had booked and the seat-belt extension so that SJ could be fastened into Mrs T's seat belt.
Now, as I write this with hindsight, I'm left wondering why didn't I ask for a second extension so that we had the option for SJ to also be strapped to me, freeing up Mrs T, for eating, moving around, movie watching etc? The answer is, of course, that I could have done, but that actually the pressure in those (public) situations where you are doing everything to prevent your child from causing a scene is to get everything done as quickly and efficiently as possible. Handing off SJ to me would have been a big faf, trying to attach him to me an even bigger one, essentially wasting our precious time and making him more prone to screaming.
With that, SJ happily slept and eat his way through the flight. Screaming only for the 3 minutes I was holding him so that Mrs T could take a well earned wee. All the rest of the time he was snugly attached to my better half.
There was one last moment baby related high-jinx just as we were about to get carried away with how smoothly it all had gone. That was the incredibly public wee that our darling son did, as we changed his nappy while waiting to get off the plane at Heathrow. A bigger audience of already disgruntled people he couldn't have wished for!
We were whisked through passports and baggage in much the same way as we had check in and security at the other end. To arrive in my parents words (as they met us at arrivals) 'looking all put together'.
Appearances, don't tell the whole story.
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