I’m on my first work-related flight since having Garcon. Though DH and I have had a few overnights away from him (singles for our anniversary and a wedding – a double for a farther wedding), this is my first trip away for an involuntary purpose.
Somehow the involuntary nature changes things.
While I’m thinking of Garcon each time I pass a traveling family or a mother – and occasionally, a father – I must confess I don’t envy those schlepping bags, strollers and car seats. I’m almost relieved to be traveling sans diaper bag. Even the mother pushing an elegant Bugaboo looks shleppy – the Snugride seat riding on her forearm and the diaper bag and purse on the other just make her seem overloaded. The parents traveling together seem to be having a better go of it.
Flying reminds me of my pre-baby days. I actually enjoyed business travel and the freedom it provided me. I was fortunate that my client destination was top-notch. For that client, I’d jet into LaGuardia, was picked up by private car and whisked to the Grand Central Hyatt. The address on 42nd at Lexington was just blocks from Times Square one direction – and blocks from the UN to the other. And out my window, across the street I could look down at Cipriani, the luxe restaurant/residences...often seeing paparazzi flashbulbs from 20 stories up. Yes, it’s hard to beat midtown Manhattan on expenses. It was a world that I loved to travel in, before traveling pissed me off as a pregnant woman. How dare you ask me to travel at 30 weeks?
Now, I’m on to another client team, and our destination in the southeast isn’t so tony. It’s not bad, not horrible, but it’s not Midtown. I’ll have to see what I think about it.
I know eventually I’ll fly with Garcon, and I will become the happily overburdened schlepper. But today I’m just quietly thinking of him as I fly like the woman I used to be.
