Flying High

This morning, I received a text from Husband letting me know that he was sitting on the plane waiting to take off to join His Family at Grandma’s house.  He then said, Shall I have a bloody?  And I’m all...bloody nose when you get here?  Seriously, you are already sitting by yourself on an airplane, (that alone sounds awesome) most likely catching up on world events so you can sound smarter than me at dinner parties, and now I’m supposed to cheer you on as you order a cocktail?  Maybe just turn your phone off now.

Flying with young children can be...not so great.  I have flown dozens of times alone with my kids and each time I have to take a deep breath, pack enough snacks for China and back, ignore dirty look from flight attendant as I order a cocktail, and keep fingers crossed that everyone’s bodily functions stay in order.  (Because you may not know, many planes do not have a changing table.  This presents a challenging situation for any parent of a child who POOPS.)

Although my kids are usually good flyers, I have definitely been THAT mom with THAT kid on the plane.  My daughter, as an infant, one time screamed, um, the entire flight from Dallas to LAX.  It was fantastic.  I remember the two men sitting behind me kept giving me thumbs up, saying GREAT JOB, MOM!  WE’RE ALMOST THERE!  And although they were being friendly, I just wanted to flip them the bird and lock myself in the bathroom and cry.  My son is king of falling asleep riiiggghhhtttt as we land which makes deplaning exceptionally awesome.  They both often find that the best time for a wrestling match is as we are taxiing for takeoff and I endure more dirty looks from flight attendants as I say with gritted teeth I know they need to buckled up...I’M WORKING ON IT, LADY.  (And you’re grumpy ass isn’t helping matters, by the way.)

I will say that on the very very rare occasion I fly by myself, I am a much more relaxed passenger.  Our flight’s delayed?  No problem.  We’ll be sitting on the runway for 45 (90) minutes?  Okay...that sort of sucks, but oh well.  AT LEAST I AM NOT WITH CHILDREN RIGHT NOW.  I was not always like this.  Ask Husband.  Wait, don’t ask him.  We’d hate for him to have anything remotely negative to say about me because I’m perfect.

My formula for flying with young ones is pack light, (except for snacks) offer plenty of mindless entertainment, (hello ipad, I love you) juice, juice and more juice, and of course, don’t forget to bring that one treat your kids never get to eat except for on the plane.  We go with fruit snacks, otherwise known as AIRPLANE FOOD!   And while there will always be the people who race you to the escalator so they don’t have to wait behind you while you gently encourage your son to STEP ON.  STEP ON IT.  PLEASE.STEP.ON.IT.NOW, there are also the people who offer to carry a bag for you off of the plane.  Do everyone a favor and be THAT person.  And lastly, I appreciate the thumbs up, but I’d much rather have a cocktail, so feel free to buy me one.  

So, darling Husband, I hope you had a nice, relaxing flight because on the way home, Mama is plugging in her iphone and reading four trashy magazines while you fight over which Wild Kratts is on next.  Oh, and, go ahead and order me a bloody.  Thanks.