Jack Tame: Travelling with a baby... what could go wrong?

Everyone says the best time to travel with a baby is before it can walk.

Makes sense, when you think about it. Most toddlers, once they’ve learnt to trot around the place, live for nothing more. All they want to do is walk. In fact, if you think about it, you really don’t want to get close to even blurring the line between rolling and crawling and waddling away. The moment your child is old enough and independently spirited enough to drag themselves around, you’re done for. There is no reasoning with an exhausted one-year-old on a packed 777. You can’t calmly explain that actually the pilot has just put on the fasten seatbelt sign. You can’t even vegetate them with a screen.

As the old advice goes, if you’re going to travel with a young one, you’re best to do it when they’re really young. Hold them tight and they’ll mistake turbulence for rocking. Chuck them on the boob or the bottle if their ears are popping. And hey, you’ll be at your destination in no time!

Or not. As someone who usually prides themselves on embracing new experiences, even I’ll concede that as our departure date approached, I felt an unmistakably growing sense of anxiety about our journey: 24 hours to Toronto with a four-month-old little boy and his eight-year-old brother. It all seemed so easy when we booked the tickets!

The stress really kicked in the moment the taxi arrived to take us to the airport. Having purchased a special travel carseat secondhand, it was a rude shock to discover that it didn’t really fit our cab like it fitted the cars in the instructional YouTube videos. Cue ten minutes of wrestling and cursing and a t-shirt neckline already drenched in sweat.

Timing an 8pm flight with a baby means being at the airport at 6pm, which means getting a cab at 5.15pm. Our boy is fine in a carseat so long as he’s moving. But when it’s the beginning of a long weekend and everyone is leaving Auckland at once, nobody’s moving. You’re lucky to get more than a couple of car lengths without coming to a standstill again. By the time we arrived the airport he’d already screamed his lungs out and my blood pressure was sitting somewhere between concerning and see-a-medical professional immediately. Just 23 hours to go.

I’ve travelled enough and been sat next or near enough babies to know a lot of the theory around flying with little ones, but the thing you only fully appreciate once you’re in charge is how precarious any moment of peace always seems.  They might be fast asleep in their mother’s arms as the plane taxis to the runway, but he’s never more than a little jolt away from potentially stirring and screaming. It’s like you’re cradling a pink, chubby little grenade who’s missing a pin. He might go off and it might be catastrophic. He might scream and scream until all the babies on the flight slowly tip off each other, like a cadre of car alarms at 30 thousand feet. Or he might just sleep. The potential for either option is never more than a few seconds away.

Of course, some things are just destined to go wrong. The moment you put your baby in the bassinet and he goes to sleep, there will be turbulence and you’ll be forced to take him out, bright and alert as a little meerkat. The moment you successfully navigate the Row 48 bathrooms and their slippery changing table and make it back triumphant to your seat, you will recognise a familiar straining expression on your baby’s face. The moment you’re sure that your son couldn’t possibly have any more burps and you just happen to lower that spill cloth for a couple of seconds, he will make sure to exploit that sartorial weakness so before long, his dried milk can mix in with that dried sweat from the taxi, earlier on. The moment you land, you will discover there’s been a mix up with the luggage and the carseat that’ll take a long time to fix and jeopardise your connection. It will be Lord of the Flies in the customs queue, you will miss your connecting flig

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:07):
You're listening to the Saturday Morning with Jack Tame podcast
from news Talks at be Jack Tame.

Speaker 2 (00:15):
And everyone says the best time to travel with a
baby is before it can walk, And the theory kind
of makes sense right when you think about it. Most toddlers,
once they've learnt to trot around the place, live for
nothing more. All they want to do is walk. In fact,
if you think about it, you really don't want to
get close to even blurring the line between rolling and

(00:36):
crawling and waddling away. The moment your child is old
enough and independently spirited enough to drag themselves around, you're
done for. There is no reasoning with an exhausted one
year old on a packed triple seven. You can't calmly
explain that actually the pilot has just put on the
fastened seat belt sign, so if you wouldn't mind taking
your seat. You can't even vegetate them with a screen.

(00:59):
As the old advice goes, if you're going to travel
with a young one, you are best to do it
when they're really young. Hold them tight and they'll mistake
turbulence for rocking. Chuck them on the boob or the
bottle if their ears are popping, and hey, you'll be
at your destination in no time or not. As someone
who usually prides themselves on embracing new experiences, even I

(01:24):
will con see that. As our departure date approached, I
felt an unmistakably growing sense of anxiety about our journey
twenty four hours to Toronto with a four month old
little boy and his eight year old brother. It all
seemed so easy when we booked the tickets, but the
stress really kicked in the moment the taxi arrived to

(01:45):
take us to the airport. Having purchased a special travel
car seat secondhand, it was a rude shock to discover
that it didn't fit our cab like it fitted all
the cars and the instructional YouTube videos Q ten minutes
of wrestling and cursing at a T shirt neckline already
drenched in sweat. Timing an eight pm flight with a

(02:08):
baby means being at the airport at six pm, which
of course means getting a cab at five to fifteen pm.
Our boy is usually fine in a car seat, just
so long as he's moving, but of course, when it's
the beginning of a long weekend and everyone is leaving
Auckland at once, nobody's moving, You're lucky to get more
than a couple of car lengths without coming to a

(02:30):
standstill once again. By the time we arrived at the airport,
he had already screened his lungs out, and my blood
pressure was sitting somewhere between concerning and see a medical
professional immediately, just twenty three hours to go. I've traveled
enough and been sat next door near enough to babies

(02:53):
to know a lot of the theory around flying with
little ones. But the thing you only fully appreciate once
you're in charge is just how precarious any moment of
peace always seems. Might be fast asleep in their mother's
arms as the playing taxis to the runway, but he's
never more than a little jolt away from potentially stirring

(03:14):
and screaming. It's kind of like you're craveling like a pink,
chubby little grenade who's missing a pin. He might go off.
It might be catastrophic. He might scream and scream until
all the babies on the flight slowly tip each other
off like a cadre of car alarms at thirty thousand feet.
Or he might just sleep. The potential for either option

(03:39):
is never more than a few seconds away. Of course,
some things are just destined to go wrong. The moment
you put your baby in the bassinet and he goes
to sleep, there will be turbulence, and you'll be forced
to take him out, bright and alert as a little
mere cat. The moment you successfully navigate the row forty
eight bathrooms and their slippery changing table and make it

(04:01):
back triumphant to your seat, you will recognize a familiar
strain expression on your baby's face. The moment you're sure
that your son couldn't possibly have any more burps and
you just happen to lower that spill cloth for a
couple of seconds, he will make sure to exploit that
sartorial weakness, so before long his dried milk can mix

(04:24):
in with that dried sweat from the taxi earlier. On
the moment you land, you will discover there's been a
mix up with your luggage and the car seat, and
that's going to take longer to fix and jepinize your connection.
It will be lord of the flies and the customs queue.
You will miss your connecting flight, and the replacement will
somehow fail to have transferred the infant's booking, So what

(04:45):
you asked, do you suggest we just leave him here?
Most of this, of course, isn't any one person's fault,
but rather just the inevitable hiccups when navigating the crazy
logistics of internal travel. In fairness, Marni did about as
well as anyone could expect a four month old to do.
But traveling long hall with a bay bob has tested

(05:08):
my enthusiasm for the whole new experiences philosophy. Sure, he
might have spewed in the middle of an aisle while
half the plane was watching him. He might have gone
through a dozen nappies, three rompers, a cardigan, and no
fewer than five bibs. But next time I'll remember that
I'm the one who needs to pack extra clothes in
his carry on and after it all, after it all there,

(05:32):
we were more than twenty four hours since we left home.
Pulling into a quiet street and a little town on
Lake Ontario, it was almost help us. Three in the
morning local time, the dead of night. Marney's grandparents were
waiting to meet their grandson for the first time. Marnie's
great grandparents were waiting to meet him for the first time.

(05:54):
Bleary eyed and teary eyed. We hugged and cried in
the warm summer air. Sons, daughters, aunties, grandparents and great grandparents,
four rations together and it was all worth it.

Speaker 1 (06:10):
For more from Saturday Morning with Jack Tame, listen live
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