That mother.

And, poof! Just like that, Koala and I are in the States.

The only thing accurate in that statement is that Koala and I are in the States. Koala and I, minus husband, minus mother’s helper, minus sanity. I took my 7-month old on a business trip to New York. Namely – I managed a trans-Atlantic flight with a baby, minus a parent.

It was a challenge. I’ve seen other ‘single’ moms do it and they just seem so cool and casual about it. Maybe I’m forgetting all the not cool and casual moms I’ve seen do it. I was not cool or casual. Or maybe I was, but Koala wasn’t. Nope – tooth  #2 decided to make its debut over the 12 hours it takes to fly from Tel Aviv to New York.

So there I am, sitting in the front of the middle section on the plane. My baby is coughing, sneezing, at one point possibly running a temperature. There’s Acimoli everywhere, snot everywhere and a lot of whining and groaning.

And so it was: I was that mother with the annoying baby.

Even stiff old charedi men were reaching out by the end to try and shut the baby up. So that’s what my conflict resolution degree was for…

Have baby, will travel.

It is the eve of our first party-of-three family trip… involving a plane ride.

That’s right; tomorrow we will be inaugurated as that young couple with a baby that you love to hate on planes. Yet another life milestone.

Here’s hoping it will go well. The definition of going well is one of the following:

  1. Koala sleeps to the steady, wonderful hum of plane droning.
  2. In the event that #1 doesn’t happen, interfering savtas keep their mouths shut.
  3. In the event that #1 does happen, we don’t sit next to another young couple with a baby for who #1 doesn’t happen.

And if you’re on the flight, and you’re sitting next to me… just be kind.