Oh. Dear. God. In one hour, I am leaving on my first plane trip since having two kids. I know this is not a big deal. I know lots of people do this all the time. I know I need to calm the hell down. It's a straight-through flight and my husband will be with me. Nonetheless, this trip terrifies me to the depths of my very soul.
Perhaps I'm frightened because the last time we were on a plane, my oldest son was 15 months and spent the majority of the flight hopping up and down on my husband's and my toes and hollering because we wouldn't let him run free. This behavior was wildly unusual for him then. Not so much now. Perhaps I'm frightened because now he's two and he regularly hollers and hops up and down when he doesn't get his way. Perhaps I'm frightened because our plane leaves at bedtime and we have to attempt to feed the toddler and the infant, then get them to sleep, only to wake them up when our flight lands at midnight. Perhaps I'm frightened because my toddler- despite his toddlerness- is relatively easygoing. My infant is not. I fear him on this flight. Perhaps I'm frightened because we will be driving a minimum of two hours every day of this trip. Perhaps I'm frightened because I know neither child will get to nap or eat on their regular schedule. We will be at the mercy of schedules and visits and people who don't remember what it's like to have two small children. Perhaps I'm frightened because I know that all of this is a recipe for HELL.
Yup. That's it.
I'll keep my fingers crossed and remember that if lots of people do this all the time, it can't be that bad. Though I must say, I'm not optimistic. Luckily, I'll be with my in-laws, so I can totally be myself and express any frustration I might have. Oh... wait...
feel free to call me sobbing at any time. I will hum soothingly and say things such as "there, there" and "of course, dear" and all will be sunshine and lollipops again.
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