The baby is screaming. Really screaming.
Row 3, seat C. We all have looked. We all know the baby is screaming, because the baby is loud. Because we have been on this flight from Frankfurt to Denver for three hours, not close to half way there, and the baby has pretty much been screaming the entire time.
When the baby first started to scream, we looked sympathetically at the mother. We had all been there – most of us. But it was a long flight, and there were a lot of men in suits who may never have held a baby, let alone changed a diaper. Let alone comforted a screaming baby. So I will clarify – I looked sympathetically at the mother. I had been there.
And I am The Baby Einstein™ Lady, so I must understand. I must know all there is to know about babies, must be like a baby whisperer, must connect with them on some kind of baby level. Right? I look at the mother sympathetically. For the first three hours.
And then I start to feel a little edgy. My iPod can’t drown out the baby, and my own children, now aged eleven and thirteen, are trying to sleep. I begin asking myself what all those men in suits are thinking – shouldn’t there be an age limit on transatlantic flights? Because it has been three hours. Nine more to go, and the baby is still screaming.
Traveling with kids. Oh, the joy.
Granted, it’s become easy. The more we’ve done it, the older the kids have gotten. Aspen plugs in her headphones and reads. Sierra plays with her Game Boy or draws. We play cards. We look at maps of where we’re going. We try to sleep.
But the baby is still screaming.
I think about asking the mom if I can hold the baby. As if there will be some miracle that occurs, that if I give the baby a new face to look at, some different arms to hold her, she will calm down. I think about asking the mom if she would like me to walk up and down the aisles of the plane with the baby, singing.
I understand that if my baby were screaming like this—which she (they) certainly did do in the past—I would be infuriated if someone asked me if they could hold the baby, implying that I didn’t know what I was doing. I don’t inquire.
The mom looks frazzled. I decide that the word ‘frazzled’ was actually coined by a mother who was on a plane with a screaming baby.
I am wishing I had brought a copy of Baby Mozart™ on the plane. I could be a hero. Even the mother who swore her child would never watch anything on television would appreciate a copy of Baby Mozart at this time. But I’m video-less. I could have saved the day. Supermom.
When my own children were babies, traveling was a nightmare. I remember this. I packed four large bags for a long weekend in Florida, including a bouncy seat and a portable high chair. I gate checked a stroller. My carry-on bag overflowed with diapers, wipes, Cheerios, teethers, baby books and breast milk in bottles packed in ice. There was no Baby Einstein when I traveled with Aspen, no means of entertainment beyond that mentioned above, and anyone who has tried to change a baby’s diaper in an airplane bathroom knows that women should design commercial jets. And so even after four hours I look at the woman with the screaming baby with sympathy—a sort of irritated sympathy.
And then I look at my own kids. They dressed themselves this morning. They unloaded the car when we arrived at the airport. They packed their own carry on bags with books I hadn’t chosen, music I didn’t know, pens and cameras and snacks. On the plane, they get up and go to the bathroom when they need to. They order ginger ale and a second bag of pretzels. They sit behind my husband and me and they are quiet and well behaved and independent. I am proud of them.
And I look at the woman with the screaming baby. I look at her with a touch – just a touch – of envy. She would never believe it at this moment. But someday. Someday she will understand.
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Founder, The Baby Einstein Company
Julie Clark founded The Baby Einstein Company in 1997. Her goal was to provide fun, interactive ways to expose her own babies to the arts and humanities, subjects that were important to her as a former English teacher. Julie’s first two videos, Baby Einstein and Baby Mozart, were filmed in her basement using borrowed equipment and edited on a home computer.
Baby Einstein videos received accolades for giving infants and toddlers a way to experience joy and laughter through classical music, poetry, nature and art. Five years, ten videos and 30 children’s books later, Julie sold Baby Einstein to The Walt Disney Company.
In 2004, at age 37, Julie received a new title: breast cancer survivor. As a breast cancer survivor, she is a proud supporter of the Pink Ribbon Foundation, an all-volunteer, non-profit organization that provide funds to cancer patients.
Julie currently lives in Colorado with her husband and two daughters. Along with her business interests, she continues to teach literature and poetry to middle school students.
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