It has been thirty years since I traveled on an airplane with an infant. It's so much more complicated now than it was then, but thank goodness, I will not be the parent in charge this time. I get to be there for grandma snuggles and to help distract, but that's the limit of my actual obligations. We head to the airport at dawn, and won't arrive to our destination in Central Florida until well after dark. I'm packed, as full as that new little suitcase can be, and I have snacks and games in my carry-on. I think I'm set.
I had a bunch of things I had to run around and do before I went away for a week. I helped a Rotary friend put together party favors for the Christmas luncheon, I had a PT appointment, and discussed a game plan to avoid edema problems during travel, went to brunch, shopped, and had a house showing, all before I came home to pack. On one hand, it kept my mind busy, so I didn't get stressed about prepping to go, but it also wore me out a bit. I hope I get enough sleep before that alarm goes off ugly early tomorrow.
I consider myself a seasoned traveler. Why is this trip stressing me out as if I never went anywhere? Is it the pandemic? Traveling with baby? TSA? DIA? Maybe it is that last one. The airport in Denver always feels like more of a hassle to depart from than most other airports I've regularly used. My daughter says leaving from LAX is a breeze. DIA makes me tense. I wonder whether any of the little regional airports closer to home will ever be reasonable alternatives for me. It would be nice to have options.
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