54 hours total traveling time with a 3 month old

My aunt walked me into the airport carrying Jude in the carseat and my suitcase. I had the two diaper bags (my carry-ons) on my back and shoulder and couldn't keep up with her fast pace. I wondered, at that moment, how the hell I was going to travel from Dallas to Amsterdam and from Amsterdam to Italy with all of my bags and Jude.

After a slight panic of not having some sort of information for Jude's ticket, we got the suitcase and carseat checked and I strapped Jude to my chest with the Bjorn. At this point, he's about 15 lbs, I have my shoulder diaper bag across my shoulders (heavier) and my backpack diaper bag on my back (heavier still). Just standing my shoulders and neck started to complain, but with a hug and a determined nod, I made my way to security, just me and Jude.

Anyone who has been at an American airport in the past 8ish years knows that people are tense. The security guards are no-nonsense and everyone just wants to get through quickly and without finding out that they forgot to take something forbidden out of their bag. Add me and my screaming baby, who I found out in this first security line, hates being in the Bjorn. It took me forever to just get my bags, shoes, and any metal items off of me while trying to balance and quell said screaming baby, and as they started getting sucked into the conveyor belt, I realized that my bag of liquids was not in plain sight I yipped and grabbed it back, got another bin, and set it in. Dirty looks abound.

I sighed and smiled to the security guard, hoping that my smile will help everyone not hate me, and walked through the metal detector. "BEEEEP." Great. Took off my passport booklet and set it in the conveyor. Walked back through.("Waaaa! Waaaa! WaaAAAaaa!") "BEEEP." Took Jude out of the Bjorn, put the Bjorn through the conveyor belt and walked back through with Jude. "BEEEP." I muttered an explicit phrase and shrugged. "Ma'am, do you have a phone on you?"

Oh.

I took the phone out of my pocket, put it through the conveyor belt, and walked through. No beeps. Fantastic. I saddled my bags and baby onto me once again, having extra fun with the shoes, and started a light jog to my already boarding flight.

Here is where I will say that KLM (Royal Dutch Airlines) are amazing. Best flight I've ever been on, complete with eye candy, helpful flight attendants, a free seat next to me, and a bassinet for Jude. Wooo! That flight itself was the most pleasant time I had the entire time, all 8 hour son the plane. They kept me supplied with as much water, coke, wine, and actual meals that I wanted. I put Jude in the bassinet, set up both trays on both seats, sat sideways, and either read or watched Dexter on my portable DVD player while I relaxed. After the first couple hours, Jude got used to the sensation and was calm almost the entire time. Didn't even poop on the flight. Woooooo!

Arrived in Amsterdam an hour early, which, it turns out, was a bit of a bummer. I no longer had any help and had to track across the entire airport as my impersonation of a pack mull and as it turns out, my terminal was 2 floors and another terminal away from the food. This coupled with (again I mention) Jude does NOT like the Bjorn for any amount of time, I was miserable, in tears, and wishing I could be back on KLM airlines. Not to say that the Dutch aren't amazing. They are. Every single person, from higher ups working for the airport to the man who picked up each piece of luggage and put it on the conveyor belt, spoke fluent English. They were kind, helpful, and loved Jude. The Starbucks guy gave me an extra cookie "to keep up your strength as a new mom" and the guy at Burger King (gotta love what America has contributed to the world. Fast food and the entertainment business.) carried my tray to my table for me. After I got my food, I parked me and Jude near a bathroom and tried to relax for the rest of the 9 hour wait between flights.

I set up a makeshift bed for Jude. Luckily, he loved it. (See picture at top.)

I waited and waited for the flight, getting frustrated from being cut off. No phone, no email; Nothing. Just me, Jude, and a bunch of Dutch people. It was a long, long wait.

The flight to Venice from Amsterdam was considerably shorter; About 2 and a half hours. It was a little, tiny plane so Jude and I were stuck in one position the entire time: Cradle hold, trying not to move because the smell permeating from his diaper increased every time he moved. There was literally no room to change his diaper, so he fell asleep and I looked out the window with him in my arms the entire time, searching for the Alps. Is that a mountain, or a cloud? Was the thought running through my head, until I actually saw mountains. They cannot be mistaken for clouds, nor clouds for mountains. Incredible, flying over them for a about half the flight.

I landed and went to baggage claim, hoping that they let people in that area because with Jude in my arms, I cannot lift my suitcase. Of course, they don't, so I was left alone. Luckily, the carseat came before the suitcase, so I grabbed it and undid Jude in record time, put him in the carseat, and grabbed my suitcase the first time it came around. Then I begged some help from a dad with a family (in pantomime; They didn't speak English) and I grabbed Jude in the car seat, the Bjorn, my two diaper bags, and he rolled my suitcase out to the open area, where I found my husband right away. I handed Jude to him and told him that he needs a diaper change ASAP, walked outside, and enjoyed the feeling of not having something heavy loading me down while Scott changed Jude's diaper and his friend Nathan loaded the military vehicle up with all of the belongings.

The actual Italy experience will be documented in a future blog.

I packed a bit smarter for the trip back, now that I had experience, but I also had to pack more in the carry-ons because the trip home was almost twice as long as the trip to Italy, so I was weighted down even more. My flight from Venice to Amsterdam was delayed two hours, but I didn't mind because my flight from Amsterdam to Detroit was in 13+ hours. Why not wait some of those in Venice instead of Amsterdam? I asked if there were any empty seats put together to change seats so I could get a bit more room, so she found 2 and changed it. I boarded quickly and sat down, hoping that no one had booked the chair next to me since then.

I was let down when a young (see, 22) french man sat next to me. (Who I greeted with Ciao, but was responded with "Oh hello!" He spoke fluent English.) I was highly disappointed that I was stuck with Jude in a tiny space again, but this turned out to be my main piece of luck the entire trip back.

We spent most of the flight in silence, but then Jude started smiling and cooing and the french dude got quite a kick out of it, and we started talking. We got along just fine, even though several things were lost in translation as he couldn't always understand my American accent and I couldn't always understand his French accent.

We got to the Amsterdam airport at 9 pm, where he found out that he'd JUST missed his flight and rescheduled for 6 am. He went to go argue or to find a better connecting flight and I went to go get my bags, as they wouldn't let me just pass them on to the next flight because it was at 8 am, the next day. I got my bags off of the conveyor belt, but by this time the baggage claim was cleared of most everyone, and certainly everyone within listening distance that spoke English, and I stood there in confusion about where I should go with my bags and if I could even transport them to where they needed to be.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and was greeted by Emmanuel, the french man, with a cart to carry my bags. "I coollld not git a cohnehcting flight, so I weel heelp yOU with yourrr bahgs, yees?" Yes please!

We found a service center to ask for help, and was rebuffed. "Well ma'am, you can get a hotel, or you can stay in baggage claim, but you cannot check your bags until morning." I asked, what like midnight? 1 am? "No ma'am, not until 5 in the morning. Thank you."

Great. I could not afford a hotel, and thought it was a waste of money anyway, so I was looking for a place to spend the night in baggage claim. Manue, as he asked to be called (Weird nickname, I told him haha) told me that since he had nothing to do and that company passes the time, would help me with my bags and we should set up somewhere and get comfortable.

We found a Starbucks. We talked politics, culture, made fun of each others phrases, about our significant others (he showed me pictures of his girlfriend in Venice) and took pictures of the empty baggage claim. He surprised me with dinner and we made fun of Americans and the French in general.

It definitely passed the hours, and it was nice to have help. He even held Jude while I packed things up when I had to go to the bathroom to change diapers, make bottles, and pee. I was told that I'm much more assertive and confident than any European woman he'd ever met. I told him he was not nearly as much as an ass as I thought a french man would be, even if he was preppy. Then I explained preppy. We parted ways at 5 am and made our way to our different terminals. (With a kiss on each cheek and a "I hope we meet again in another airport someday Sara.")

The next bit was the worst luck I've ever had. Northwest airlines are awful, and I am appalled by their lack of customer service during the flight. I was not served water or food, had to get water myself for bottles from the back, never brought the bassinet I was promised and requested, 3 times, and the flight attendants were rude. I held my unhappy (and air sick) baby the entire 9 hours. I do not recommend Northwest. At all.

Got to Detroit and went through customs. All special treatment I got for having a baby in Europe went out the window in America, which just figures, although a woman in line at customs was kind enough to hold Jude while I filled out my blue sheet. When I picked up my bags (because again, I was not allowed to have them just transferred to the next flight.) a man came up and asked if I'd like help with my luggage. I gratefully said yes, and thanked him profusely. He got my bags in a cart and right before we started walking he said, "Now, you should know I work for tips, only." Uhhh. Ok. Fine. I nodded and didn't thank him again, although I gave the tricky b*stard a tip at the end of it. Got my bags rechecked in, my new boarding pass, and went to find my terminal with my very, very unhappy baby. My flight was in 8 hours.

I sat down and watched the rest of Lost and fed Jude. I was at my limit and didn't care that I was taking up about 4 seats and an outlet and talking on my finally in service American phone. At least Jude wasn't crying.. but.. but...

Oh no. I'm out of diapers. I couldn't believe that I didn't pack enough diapers. I put the last one on him and got up to go find some. "The only store with diapers is 2 terminals down that way." Greeeaaaattt. Love you Detroit. So I walked through the seizure hallway and started my long trek to go find the MOST EXPENSIVE diapers in the history of the world. 2 diapers, 7 dollars. I bought 3 packs grudgingly, knowing it was my fault but hating that I, as an unprepared mother, was being exploited, and made my way back through the seizure hallway to my own terminal. (Seizure hallway: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oreMhpo-NTo and picture at top of page.)

Got back to my own terminal with absolutely no intention of moving until my flight, with enough bottles, diapers, and drink for me to last, and sat down. This is when Jude had an absolute meltdown. Started screaming from jet lag, being uncomfortable, and the awful 32 hours of travel time that we've experienced. I tried for 20 minutes, and nothing worked. He still screamed. I put on my ipod headphones, grabbed my book, and started reading. There was nothing I could do and I needed to save my sanity. People moved out of my terminal quickly.

He finally calmed down right before we boarded, where I found my aunt's mom! Couldn't believe it, but in a strange twist of fate we were both on the same flight home. Got on the flight and both Jude and I passed clean out. (I think. I don't remember but 10 minutes of that flight.) Found my aunt and went home.

I do not recommend traveling that long with a baby.