We Made it to London!

I was freaking out about travelling on my own with V – but I had a feeling everything would be ok.

So this is what happened…

I started packing on Monday, for myself and V.  It didn’t take long and was, I thought, a little too easy.  There was a lot of stuff I couldn’t put in until the last minute.

The morning we left (Wednesday), I got up at 5am.  Yes, 5.  I was sure there was a lot to do before leaving at 7am, but as it turns out – there wasn’t.  I was quite organised!

There was no traffic and the airport was quite quiet.  Check-in and security was fine.  And V was really well behaved and happy to be in his stroller, which I took up to the gate.  The guy who checked us in said I’d get it straight off the plane.  Yaye!  His changing bag was *so* heavy and I wanted to avoid carrying it.


10.20am: Take-off.  V sleeping.

11.20am: V wakes.  I put him in the seat and gave him a biscuit.  He spent 10 minutes offering it to the guy next to us and then snatching it back and laughing.  I needed a wee, but knew I’d have to wait.

12pm: Lunch served.  V had already had enough of staying in one place.  I stood and carried him.  Put tray on seat.  Ate salad very quickly and shared bread roll with V.

12.15pm: Put V back in seat.  Knelt in front of him and fed him a Petits Filous.  He refused to eat anything else.

12.20pm: Time has NEVER gone so slowly.  Nappy change.  Thank goodness there was no poo.  At all.  The WC on our side of the aisle wasn’t working.  So we had to go over to the other side.  This meant having to go through the galley.  Which was very busy.  I had to squeeze past carts.  It was not fun and I still needed to wee.

12.30pm: Try and sit back in seat, V had other ideas.  He didn’t want to look at his books or play with the toys.  He wanted to crawl on the floor.  So I put him down and he was very happy.  But then he started picking up all sorts of crap off the floor.  And then he tried to climb over our neighbour’s feet and get into the aisle.  It was time for a walk.  We walked up the length of the plane and back.  People stared.  So then I decided to stick to our own cabin!  We lost a pacifier.  He spat it out somewhere.  

1pm: V sleeps.  Mama sleeps.

2.20pm: V wakes and is ready to move around.  Mama has very bad headache. Tried to get him to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, but couldn’t get to the right channel because he was so squirmy.  Gave up on that idea. 

The rest of the flight involved walking, squirming, trying to crawl around and eating more Petits Filous.  He particularly enjoyed the walk to the bathroom, where he banged on the door and laughed.  Then we had such fun pulling back the curtain that separated us from the galley and laughing.  I wanted to lie down and cry.

Back in our seat – he whinged and whined.  But stopped all his nonsense to smile at anyone who walked past him.  We lost another pacifier – he threw it down the side of the seat.  And finally – it was time to land.  V had the last pacifier, which he threw down the side of the seat.  I knew I was screwed.  He was going to scream blue murder at landing.  I distracted him by giving him water and playing ‘open’ ‘close’ with the arm-rest.  Ffs.  The things we do.  And then we had landed!  And he didn’t cry!  

Oh – and during the flight, there was an announcement.  ‘If you had a stroller and brought it up to the gate, you will get it at the luggage carousel.’  Just brilliant.

But it took 30 minutes for the plane to reach the gate.  And that’s when he cried and was inconsolable (and I still needed to wee).

This was, by no means, the end of the drama…

I’m Nervous

I wrote earlier this week about how I didn’t want to leave V and go to London for six days (I Don’t Know If I Can Do It).  My reasons for leaving him are, I have to admit, quite selfish.  I didn’t want to fly with him on my own.  I’ve got to sort out his birthday party stuff while I’m there – and he won’t remember my mum, so he won’t stay with her alone, which means I won’t be able to get on with whatever I have to.  

My parents, it seems (or so they constantly tell me) had no problems leaving me when I was V’s age.  And many times after that.

I thought I’d be a lot stronger – but it turns out I’m not.  I spent a few nights not being able to sleep.  I cried until 5am and cleaned out a couple of cupboards.  It was during one of these sessions that I decided I’d just take him.  How could I leave my baby??  I would, of course, be leaving him in the best of hands…  But still!  It was only when I broached the subject with Hub that I found out…  V’s passport wasn’t with us.  It had been sent to Abuja to get his visa sorted and would take two weeks.  I felt, strangely, relieved.  My decision had been made for me.  I didn’t have any choice.  I couldn’t take him…  Is that terrible of me?

Why didn’t I just change my flight?  I *have* to be back so I can start organising the party – sending out invites, ordering the cake, etc.  

And then… Yesterday I found out that his passport was ready.  I was thrilled that I could take him if I wanted to, but, yet again, I was torn apart.  My decision had been undecided.  Late last night, after yet more worrying, I thought – f*** it.  I’m taking him.  I can’t bear to leave him.  My parents haven’t seen him since April, and may not see him again until December.  My brother last saw V when he was six weeks old and I want to do things with him.  I want to take him to the park.  I want him to crawl in the grass.  I want him to eat the bread when we go feed the ducks and I’d like to take him to the zoo.

But I’m scared and very, very nervous…

I’ve never flown alone with him.

His changing bag is usually very heavy.  Combine that with *him* and my own hand-luggage and I’m going to need a back-brace. 

I’m short.  5ft 1.  I can’t reach the overhead storage compartments!  How am I going to get the bag down??

What if I need the loo?  What if he does a poo?  What if he wants to crawl around everywhere?  What if the person next to me gets irritated?  What if he cries non-stop at landing (like the last 3 flights)?

How am I going to carry him, collect my luggage and put it all on the trolley?  And if I put him in his stroller, and I have a trolley – who will push the trolley?

Should I take the Baby Bjorn?  Then I can carry him on me and load everything (including stroller) on the trolley…?

I’m confused.  Maybe it would be easier to just leave him behind?

Nooo!  I couldn’t do that!  Look at his face, could you leave him?


But seriously… Any advice would be VERY welcome!