I should have written this post earlier but really, it slipped off my mind until recently.
Isa had his first air travel when he was 11 months – and I am sure it doesn’t mean a thing for him. Nevertheless, it was such an experience for me, and not so nice one in a way.
Malaysians were having their 13th General Election, and the silly me who has been residing in Kuala Lumpur for nearly 4 years was yet to registered myself as a KL resident (we Malaysians vote at the constituency corresponds with our registered address). I had to vote in my hometown which is 500km away, while my husband was a registered voter in a nearby constituency where his parents live.
And that means if I were to go back voting, I had to bring Isa, alone.
The thought sent shivers to my spine really. Taking a bus (and the whole 7 hours journey) is really as impossible as driving alone – so I had to resort to buying flight tickets (which cost a bomb, nearly RM500, as compared to RM50 bus ticket) KL – Alor Star, a one-hour flight. So much of trying to be a good citizen eh?
It was only two nights, so we travel light. No stroller too, and luckily Isa was yet to be weaned off fully from breastfeeding at that time, so there was not much of his bottlefeeding equipments to bring.
Well, I did try to travel light, but how light could it be when I had to carry a 9-kg child, who is yet able to walk, with me?
I took an early flight to get the cheapest price possible, and I think it was the best thing I could have done to make the journey easier. Isa was not at his most active phase for the day, he slept throughout the journey (in fact, he fell asleep even before the flight took off), and the flight was not full that I could have the entire row to myself (easier to breastfeed).
The most painful part is carrying him from the airport lounge to the boarding area i.e. the flight – let me remind you that it was a low-cost flight operating at a low cost carrier airport, so it could be nearly a 1-km walk before I could rest on my seat. Phew.
The journey back to KL was equally easy in that way, also more painful. It was a 8.30 pm flight, which was delayed for two-hours, and Isa could not sleep under bright lights – he even threw up and had his pajamas soaked in puke while we were waiting in the boarding area. Then he started crying and making sound and appeared clearly irritated by the long wait (and no daddy to entertain him) particularly because it was long past his bed time. We boarded on the plane at midnight. He finally got to sleep peacefully with his face on my chest the whole time only he woke up when the flight touched down.
After such an experience, I don’t think I will ever fly with a young kid like that without my husband. Or at least another chaperon.