So, moving abroad, not always easy. Moving with a new baby, a whole new challenge! And something more akin to a military operation. A bit of a haphazard operation in our case but still – organisation and precision is the key. Then when anything goes wrong our back up plan was the whole winging it method. I mean, just getting the bags to the airport and then on the plane was a challenge in itself, not to mention packing them in the first place.
We bundled ourselves, lots and lots of bags and the baby into a taxi and to the airport with help from the grandparents. We made it, said goodbye to our bags and to the grandparents, who we had wanted to smuggle across along with the other grandparents, and set of on our new adventure just the three of us. I was rather excited as, thanks to the other Lu’s work, we were flying business – I have never flown business before and Wu, who is already a frequent flier, seemed to take it all in his stride charming the air stewards and other passengers, making use of the beds by sleeping and using it as his jumperoo and, thankfully, didn’t cry once. PHEW! We even got congratulated on what a good baby he was at the end by the other passengers. It made up for the narrow eyed glances we got as they boarded and spotted what, by the looks on their faces, was the worst thing possible for any plane traveller, even worse than realising that none of the personal media works on a long haul flight – a baby. Luckily I have perfected my ‘don’t mess with a tired mum or her baby’ look. Which, I have been told, would make even the most hardened person avert their eyes.
We landed and then needed help as we had no arms left to push bag trolleys or the pram without leaving one of them behind. Not an option. Our rescuer came in the form of a porter, to help maneuver all our bags through O’Hare. I felt a bit like one of those families who take far too much on holiday. I felt like holding a sign saying we have relocated – honest! Once we managed to navigate the horrible queues we made it outside. We then realised that the porter wasn’t so much as helpful, but had a charge per bag and must have been delighted with our haul. Oh well, it was the only way. Me and Wu were then left at a bus shelter with all the bags as Lu went to find the car. It took quite a while so I was there singing along to Wu, I don’t know what I looked like!
I must have looked even worse when we had to find somewhere to feed a somewhat noisy Wu and ended up in a park, in our massive Surburban, used by the FBI, top down feeding Wu with suspicious looks from dog walkers trying to work out if we were on a covert operation.
Well no one said parenting was glamorous. The cheeky McDonalds we had did somewhat to further dispel any glamour, but it tasted great, and yes there may have been burger and nuggets and fries involved. The healthy eating will start again once I get all the American taste hit list out of the way with.
Wu has been a fantastic traveller which I had to try really hard to remember, as well as the compliments from fellow passengers, when his jet lag kicked in. He was there beaming out of his cot, trying to crawl by rocking backwards and forwards, singing to us at 3 am in the morning. Wide awake and ready for playtime. Unlike his parents. I fear it will take us all a lot longer to get over the jet lag this time around thanks to this cute little creature and I don’t think coffee will save me this time.