Even Adaptive Grandpa wrote to me after the previous post to tell me how cool, calm and collected the three of us seemed when my parents were there to meet us off the flight to London.
It's true that our traveling went far more smoothly than we had any right to imagine. Frankly that's much less interesting (and I hope worthwhile) than hearing the story behind the story...
It all begins with our wearable baby carrier. Back in March we had bought bought a Baby-Bjorn as our wearable carrier of choice. To say 'our' is honestly more than a little misleading, You see, as with the vast majority of the baby equipment we have chosen ourselves the sole barometer of that choice is my ability to use the contraption/device/thingymabob/ successfully. Rigorous in-store practicing with the 'in-house' baby doll, seemed to show that I would be able to carry the real baby in it successfully when the time came. With that, the choice was made, the 'Bjorn' became 'our' wearable baby carrier.
Now, this approach does have a distinct advantage in as much as it makes the process of baby shopping much less overwhelming because in every significant sphere it cuts down our choices. We our fortunate that every purchasing selection does not feature the agonizing choice between 150 versions of the same thing that seem distinguishable one from the next by little more than 'the cute dog design' or the 'one with the spaceships'. Who knew you needed half this stuff? Truth is, in reality, there are a few bits of kit that have proven essential and many others that we now consider essentially superfluous. (I'm sure this must be in common with the experience of many other new parents be they adaptive or able-bodied).
In this case, our approach proved flawed as within a few weeks it became clear that the Baby Bjorn, while still comfortable for SJ and working well for me, was putting too much pressure on Mrs T's back. After some testing of her own, Mrs T selected the Beco Gemini (we'll say nothing of the aspirational, pretentious name) as her carrier of choice and so, on the very day of our flight to London we became one of those 'two-carrier' families.
We specifically wanted to have both carriers for the flight so that we could both take turns with parenting duties in the airport and on the plane while the other could eat, watch a film, sleep etc. Plus, of course Mrs T wouldn't have to carry all the luggage and the baby too. From my perspective this was great as I, as ever, was concerned that the burden of parenting was likely to fall on Mrs T during the journey and here was a way to even the load. This is part of the reason that the inside story of the flight was actually one of frustration for me.
As I said in the previous post, we were all packed and ready when the cab came to take us to Logan- thanks largely to my being sent to do trip-related errands (including buying Mrs T's Gemini carrier) while Mrs T handled the packing and SJ. Things started to go down hill once we arrived at the airport.
Clearly, its not all bad. I imagine that tonnes of able-bodied folks are quietly jealous of wheelchair users at airports like myself who get whisked effortlessly through all the various queues. That said no ones ever fest this up to me, just a hunch. In fact, when Mrs T and I first traveled abroad when we were engaged she would constantly double check whether she should be coming with me as we merrily skipped the queues.
That said, as soon as we arrived at the airport and the wheelchair attendant met me the tone was set. I was put in the (naughty) corner where people requiring assistance are made to wait for a pusher. Fortunately, the baby was sleepy. Mrs T went to check in and soon returned to take all the luggage and get the stroller tagged for aircraft side check-in. I was left twiddling my thumbs, thankful that the baby was too busy being tired to cause any trouble.
When the wheelchair pusher arrived off we went, me with the hand luggage on my lap. The assistant, pushing me and Mrs T with the baby and all the other hand luggage.
No problem you might say, indeed there was no problem until, that is we got to the security check.
And for that come back for part 2... (which is a proof read away from being published so should be ready by some point tomorrow (Monday), see you then.
In this case, our approach proved flawed as within a few weeks it became clear that the Baby Bjorn, while still comfortable for SJ and working well for me, was putting too much pressure on Mrs T's back. After some testing of her own, Mrs T selected the Beco Gemini (we'll say nothing of the aspirational, pretentious name) as her carrier of choice and so, on the very day of our flight to London we became one of those 'two-carrier' families.
We specifically wanted to have both carriers for the flight so that we could both take turns with parenting duties in the airport and on the plane while the other could eat, watch a film, sleep etc. Plus, of course Mrs T wouldn't have to carry all the luggage and the baby too. From my perspective this was great as I, as ever, was concerned that the burden of parenting was likely to fall on Mrs T during the journey and here was a way to even the load. This is part of the reason that the inside story of the flight was actually one of frustration for me.
As I said in the previous post, we were all packed and ready when the cab came to take us to Logan- thanks largely to my being sent to do trip-related errands (including buying Mrs T's Gemini carrier) while Mrs T handled the packing and SJ. Things started to go down hill once we arrived at the airport.
Clearly, its not all bad. I imagine that tonnes of able-bodied folks are quietly jealous of wheelchair users at airports like myself who get whisked effortlessly through all the various queues. That said no ones ever fest this up to me, just a hunch. In fact, when Mrs T and I first traveled abroad when we were engaged she would constantly double check whether she should be coming with me as we merrily skipped the queues.
That said, as soon as we arrived at the airport and the wheelchair attendant met me the tone was set. I was put in the (naughty) corner where people requiring assistance are made to wait for a pusher. Fortunately, the baby was sleepy. Mrs T went to check in and soon returned to take all the luggage and get the stroller tagged for aircraft side check-in. I was left twiddling my thumbs, thankful that the baby was too busy being tired to cause any trouble.
When the wheelchair pusher arrived off we went, me with the hand luggage on my lap. The assistant, pushing me and Mrs T with the baby and all the other hand luggage.
No problem you might say, indeed there was no problem until, that is we got to the security check.
And for that come back for part 2... (which is a proof read away from being published so should be ready by some point tomorrow (Monday), see you then.
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