We're "those" parents now

Having a baby keeps one busy. No matter how hard I plead with Nuha every evening that I need to update my blog, she simply wails until I relent and agree to change yet another poopy diaper. Not only does she require 100% of our time, she demands that we service her with a smile. One day I'll make her pay me back. Maybe by embarrassing her in front of all her high school friends by showing to pick her up in a spandex Spiderman costume. That'll show her.

Saeeda and I spent the last week on vacation in LA. Saeeda had left two weeks ago, with her mom helping with the baby on the flight over. I joined the family later, spent a week in LA, and then we all returned to Chicago together. So the return trip was the first time I had ever traveled with an infant. It also marked the first time I became "that parent" with the baby who slows everything down.

See, in my past life I was a high-powered tech consultant, flying from city to city on a weekly basis. I was cool. I was hip. I knew which belt buckle to wear so that it wouldn't set off the detectors. I knew exactly which order to place my belongings for screening at the security checkpoint. Laptop in a bin by itself, followed by laptop bag, followed by my carry-on luggage, and end with shoes and jacket in another bin. This way I retrieved my most valuable belonging first, placed it back in the laptop bag as that came through, then put on my shoes and jacket before heading on my way. Less than 3 minutes start to finish.

Here's how things play out now. Saeeda and I struggle to squeeze the baby stroller through the narrow Disney-land lanes at the security checkpoint. We get to the screening area, then need to spend ten minutes disassembling the Transformer-like contraption that is the stroller (see my post here on how long it took me to assemble the damn thing). We then struggle with the diaper bag, which we don't realize has bottles of water in it for Nuha's milk. The water bottles need to be tossed, which takes some more fumbling. Starting to get embarrassed at how long this is taking, I simply start flinging stuff onto the belt for screening. I almost toss the baby into the x-ray machine before my wife stops my arm in mid-swing. My daughter looks at me accusingly ("hey, free x-rays!" I think to myself). I walk through the detector, only for alarms to go off because I haven't emptied my pockets. Embarrassed and defeated at having made such a rookie mistake, I step back and run into the passenger behind me so that I can sheepishly empty my pockets into a tray.

With our security screening adventures over, Saeeda and I make it to our gate and start boarding the plane. Now we have to navigate the narrow plane aisle in search of our seats while carrying Nuha in a baby seat. Nuha, suddenly claustrophobic, decides its time she is taken out of the car seat and lets out a piercing cry. I look at her and plead with her to hang on, which does no good. Now the tears and the flailing start, while I try mightily to hold on to the car seat. I silently curse the passengers ahead of us blocking the aisle as they take their own sweet time trying to figure out why a gargantuan suitcase won't fit into the tiny overhead bin. When I see them try to shove the luggage in for the fourth time, I feel like yelling at them, but am saved by the flight attendant who gently admonishes them and tells them that they need to gate check their bag. In-flight Twister ensues as those passengers try to get by me while I hold a car seat with a squirming, squealing infant. As I maneuver the car seat, I clock a seated gentleman squarely on the head - afterwards I can't tell whether he is unconscious or simply resting his face on his copy of of the Wall St. Journal. I glance at my ticket, praying to God that our seat is coming up. No such luck - we're the absolute last aisle on the plane, just before the bathroom (I bet the airline does that on purpose - stick parents with stinky babies by the stinky bathroom and no one will notice).

Now attracting evil glares from every passenger, my wife and I (who have become "those parents" with the screaming baby) apologize our way through to the back of the plane and to our seats. We slowly shed all our gear - the diaper bag, our carry ons, my wife's purse, food for the flight, reading material for the flight, jackets, base for the car seat and then finally the car seat with Nuha still ensconced within. The moment we set her down, she stops crying, and looks up and gives us an angelic smile.

I'm so wearing that spandex Spidey costume in front of her friends.