Some moms are amazing. They can take their children on vacation, expand those little minds, make memories, take pictures, and even manage not only to survive but enjoy their family vacation. As a part of the WMC Nation they’ll have read blog posts on how to babywear and breastfeed their way to a more convenient trip. This is not one of those posts.
Babes on a Plane
Be sure to pack your Udder Cover for discrete nursing. Also be sure to sit on it and/or position it just totally wrong while your baby screams at the top of his lungs during take off. Kids make life exciting, and flight is no exception. They take everything and ruin it make it new. Fingers become puppets. Peanuts become projectiles as they’re kicked out of your hand mid-bite. Strangers become judgmental trolls who suddenly think that “being hit by peanuts” is “rude”. The guilt you’ll feel due to your little sweetheart’s ear discomfort caused by your dragging him into a metal capsule that insists on shooting through the air at 30,000 feet above the Earth is just a bonus.
Make a mental note to find out if flashing your boobs (in the name of breastfeeding) qualifies you for the Mile High Club.
Big Noise in Little China
Authentic cultural cuisine is one of the highlights of travel. Shabu-style dining is fun, inexpensive and delicious, and Chinatown is just the place for it. Raw seafood and a boiling pot of liquid, right there on the table! What could possibly go wrong?! While no one might get burned, your temperature will surely start to rise when your little one decides he wants to eat but also doesn’t, so you’ll spend the entire meal listening to him scream at your boob while hot steam from the table rolls up your face like a wave of desperation. Free facial!
Here’s a fun game to play: Which restaurant that your family decides to eat at will not have a changing table? The answer is all of them, and you lose. After wiping down the public toilet seat and the surrounding areas with baby wipes, your child will laugh hysterically while you change his diaper on your lap, trying not to let him roll onto the sticky, moist floor. You’ll find that having his junk out is really what he wanted all along and that if you’d known that you could have forgone the tantrum, loosened that diaper and might have actually gotten to eat something during the first 45 minutes of dinner.
Once you head back to the table he’ll nurse and then, by some mystical Eastern magic, fall asleep. Rather than, ya know, eat, you’ll have a maternal moment of weakness looking at his cherubic face finally resting peacefully and lift his little forearm to kiss it. This will be met with sudden, blood-curdling shrieks that are seriously your last straw and get your coats, we are leaving right now!
Ah, the subway- or The T, as it’s called in Boston. That wonder of transportation involving a train traveling two or three stories below the earth’s surface at lightening speed. The loud sounds, the bright lights, the whooshing air (I believe “whooshing” is a technical term), it’s all very exciting. It’s also a great place to have an anxiety attack about your precious infant’s exposure to People. People with a capital P because they immediately cease to be individuals and morph into Mama Enemy Number One. People are disgusting. And there are so many of them. On the subway, these facts slap you in the face. Try to maintain your tourist’s balance while also forming a protective arm barrier around your Moby-wrapped baby, like a body guard defending Justin against his Beliebers. This will look ridiculous and will not work. Also, you must remember which hand is your Public Hand- the one you use to touch the poles, stair rails and other surfaces People have touched and possibly urinated on, lest you wipe your baby’s nose with the Finger of a Thousand Germs. Keep that hand sanitizer close, and remember: Ebola is no longer a threat. So they tell us.
On a related note, feel absolutely free to call bullsh*t on your baby when you witness him sleeping contentedly while a train literally hurtles by four feet away, but you can’t unwrap a Hershey’s kiss from across the room at home without waking him up.
Fight at the Museum
Here’s a little math equation for you, since travel should be educational and we’re already having so much fun: If the distance from the doorway of the historic-home-turned-museum to the exhibit you came to see is directly proportionate to the depth of your child’s slumber, and the handrail on the main stairs is a sturdy example of fine craftsmanship, but the handrail to the basement is a century-old piece of crap, at what point in the tour will your child start to scream and thrash about? If you answered “In the basement,” which is where your exhibit is, and you’re crammed in there with twenty other people like May West in a girdle, then congratulations! And this time everyone loses.
But every dirty diaper has a protective lining. Even though you had to bail right before the historian explained how the Victorians kept their aspics chilled, you’ll be rewarded with the rare opportunity to sit on a 19th century bay window that says “Do Not Sit” and nurse knowing that you’re probably the first woman to breastfeed a baby in this house who wasn’t wearing a pinafore apron and getting paid to do so.
Bonus: The college student acting as the tour guide will take pity on you for missing out and will allow you to go back for a quick peak at the kitchen downstairs, unattended, where you will proceed to touch just every antique within arms reach. Because, opportunity.
Not a play on a movie title. This is exactly how many hours it will feel like I (I mean… You…) lugged around that chubby, free loading baby in a front-carry using the Moby wrap. Did you know that Boston is kind of hilly? Like, everywhere you go it’s as though you have to go up hill both ways? You’ll learn. And did you know that subway trains go way under ground, like, way underground? Sometimes three stories under? And that sometimes you’ll have to climb three flights of stairs just to get back to street-level? You’ll learn. And did you further know that you are WAY out of shape, and that babywearing at the grocery store is not adequate conditioning for situations like this? Dear lord, will you learn. (The lesson will be in the form of a pulled back muscle and a crappy attitude for the last day of the trip.)
In summary: Your family will enjoy an enlightening, educational trip together, and you will need a vacation after your vacation.