So had I booked us evening flights to and from Winnipeg. Flying in the evening isn't so bad with babies, right? I couldn't think of why I had this nagging feeling that evening flights weren't really a great idea.
You know when you are boarding a plane and you see this couple come on with two small children wearing pyjamas and carrying tons of stuff for a 7:00pm flight? We see them all the time. There is a nod, a hopeful smile and well-wishes in the commiseration. The other passengers wish well, but secretly cringe and you pray they aren't sitting near you.
We have traveled a lot by plane with Gabriel and it's looking like at six months and four flights in, Magdalene will have her share of flights in her life too. We seem to have really lucked out in our daytime/naptime flights, but evening flights are really uncharted territory.
Well, our last flight back from Winnipeg with the children was at 6:30 pm. Which meant supper and time to sleep. On a lit plane with sunlight streaming in through all the windows. Right. I could tell, after three late nights in a row, Magdalene, our six month old was already wired. I handed her a piece of bread that she threw around with pieces flying every which way while she shrieked and giggled and drooled hysterically. Gabriel, our two year old was fine, he semi-manically surfed the channels on the tv screen and giggled through most everything he watched.
As Magdalene started to get really tired, I tried nursing her to sleep, but to no avail. She shrieked and pulled away from me, rubbing her little eyes, digging those chubby knuckles into her eyeballs. I could feel a little bubble of anxiety in the back of my throat. I tried rocking and jiggling and patting and then walked the aisles to give the people at the front of the plane a break from the crying and, well, evenly distribute the misery? I don't know what I was thinking. I ignored eye contact. It was more like, "Get me out of here!" At one point, the strap on my new dress broke and I was trying to juggle between rocking Maggie and trying to remain modest while my dress flapped around in the struggle to sleep. I considered hiding in the bathroom, or asking the flight staff if I could park myself in back with them. Finally, I was able to find a dark blanket to create some sweater so she could sleep an hour into our two and half hour flight. And then I simply DIDN'T MOVE. Do not wake the baby.
Gabriel did just fine until we got to the airport and it was 10:30 in Toronto after three late nights. Yes, we were the family with the toddler whose head was swinging back, eyes closed crying something unintelligible while we man-handled two large suitcases, two carry-ons (one with a large stuffed dog hanging out of either side), two small suitcases, two carseats the weight of a small elephant, a baby cot and our stroller towards our car which parked in the last row of long term parking at 11:00 at night. All I can say is that I felt terrible for him while he was falling apart.
But we survived. We lived to tell the tale of flying with our littles. And now we have advice. Don't fly evening flights with small children. Yes, they are cheaper, but the money you save will be off-set by the cost of dying your newly found grey hairs inherited from your trip. Good luck my parents-of-small-children friends. Safe travels!
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