A
few weeks ago we flew to my native land (Kentucky) and I was super
excited, but accompanying that excitement was a small to medium wave
of pure terror because of Rad stinking Miller. I was pretty sure
Rhett would be okay because he's sort of out of the restless body
syndrome, but Rad is not and he is a large boy and once he starts
flailing and kicking...watch your teeth that you happen to like.
So
after the 1001st emotional meltdown because his blankets touched Rad
or Rad looked at his blankets or I didn't let Rad put toys down my
shirt, I popped open some fancy dollar store toys told them to please
figure it out.
Several minutes later we some how ended up with this
seating arrangement.
The
lap child gets a chair and the adult get's the crack between the
chairs.
But hey it kept the peace! On an airplane I will do almost anything to keep everyone happy. Try me.
We
were smarty pants and got a direct flight from Phoenix to Louisville.
All in all it was a great flight, really, truly, the boys did great.
As mentioned above, we weren't above bribery and had picked up a few
toys from the dollar store that we brought out over the 3:30 hour
flight. It was my genius moment for the year. I won't have another
one till 2015.
As
we were doing the final descent I was feeling pretty darn good. We
were happy, we hadn't had to breakout the extra clothes and the
people around us seemed content or they were doing an awesome job of
faking it.
Rad
could sense that the trip had gone too smoothly. Too smoothly.
WHAT
IS ......
NO.
NOT
THAT.
No,
please no.
No
no no no no no no no no.
But
YES.
It
was precisely that...a diaper malfunction.
That
just kept coming
And
coming
And
coming.
Try
yelling "you're peeing on me, you're peeing on me!" on a
plane and see how many people turn around and stare. (Hint: A lot.)
Bonus...it looked like I peed MY pants. #shame.
Because
we were literally 10 minutes from touching down, we only managed to
get a new diaper, sans pants, on Rad and mop up the puddle that had
collected under my leg on my seat.
When
we finally got off the plane we opted to just book it to baggage
claim rather than navigate the over flowing restroom by our gate.
Looking back it's pretty funky that I opted to wear the super soaked
jeans over changing, but the priority was more on grabbing the rental
car and letting the boys take their long over due naps. We'll call it
taking one for the team, makes it sound a little better.
And
then the line for the rental car was about 10 people more than 2.
Cavalierly I opted to take the boys and get all 6 bags (over packers
anonymous...call me....) by myself while Jake waited in line for the
car. Thankfully the boys stayed close while the crowd went into Lord
of the Flies mentality looking for their bags. You know how it is.
Everyone is anxiously sidestepping, ever so discreetly inching and
cutting in for the prime baggage claim location, right where the
suitcase comes out.
Once
I had collected all the bags, the boys were finished with staying
close and began to run. Really I don't blame them...I wanted to run
away too. Jake had progressed a smidgen closer to the counter so it
became a race of me preventing the escalator emergency stop button
from being pushed (Rad) and other people's suitcases from being taken
off the other baggage claim belts (Rhett). All while making sure TSA
didn't mistake our unattended bags as suspicious and malicious.
Then
the blessed event occurred, we got the keys to the car. So long
airport, it's was real and it was fun, but it wasn't real fun.
(More to come on the actual trip in another post. I know, I know you can hardly stand to wait. I feel the same way when I'm waiting for my Instagram to load.)
So
we had a great time with my family and after a week packed up all 6
bags and headed back to the airport. I'm sure TSA was thrilled to see
us and our numerous sippy cups and bottles of milk. Just keeping you
on your toes officer. But! I would be remiss if I didn't give mention
to the amazing TSA people who let us go through the (much shorter)
family line and who didn't bat and eye when Rhett hesitatingly
started to take his shirt off before passing through the security
scanner. Mucho mucho gracias friends.
Our
flight from Chicago to Phoenix was completely full which
meant that Rad had to be an actual lap child on my lap again. To
say it couldn't have gone worse is the understatement of my life
because he was the stereotypical hellion that all passengers boarding
flights with children tend to hate. In his defense to say he was over
tired would be the second understatement of my life.
He
- pitched fits in the aisle
- threw my phone down 78 times
- threw the open bag of pretzels down 79 times
- creepily stroked the gentleman in front of us balding head
and
- even went in for a hairy head kiss before Mean Mom swooped in
- refused to even think of taking a nap
- also ate a decent part of a tube of Chapstick while his parental figures watched. Thoughts of possibly needing to call Poison Control don't happen when you're trapped 3 miles above the ground in cylindrical tube with 114 people who you know loath the night your offspring was conceived.
He also
- screamed for "mama!!!!" when Jake held him and then screamed for "dada!!!!!" when I held him/pinned him to my person against his will
Rhett
did pretty well once we learned if we lowered the trays and put a
blanket over them that he would contently lay on the floor in his
"fort" and play with our phones or toys. And the flight got
much better after the soon to be sainted people behind us started to
play peek-a-boo with Rad. Bless their children loving heart's they
really were an in-flight game changer.
We landed in the blessed, 115 degree desert and both boys passed out after being in the car for 3 seconds thus proving our crazy theory that not-quite-two-year-olds and not-quite-four-year-olds do still REALLY need naps to survive the elements.
And
that parents need a private jet to survive a cross country flight.
Wishful thinking at it's finest.
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