The Friendly Skies

People who say they are flying the friendly skies are not flying with small children.

Take for example a few choice moments I have experienced:

(Disclaimer: If you are among my many Air Force friends who have made trips with your children to the other side of the world, please don't read my measly complaints. I have never been outside the continental U.S. with the monsters. And I'm sorry for you. Let's still be friends, okay?)

1) While traveling alone with Alex when she was about a year old, the pressure was hurting her ears and she cried inconsolably for what felt like forever. We were sitting next to a man in a business suit who would recoil with disgust whenever her chubby hand crossed the armrest boundary. A woman in front of me had her hands clasped over her ears. A stewardess had to bring me tissues.

2)Another trip with Alex she had a massive blowout and pooped all over the both of us. The seat belt light was on. I was stumped.

3)Our last trip with both kids, Derek was beyond exhaustion but couldn't settle in enough to nap. So he fidgeted constantly while crying off and on for at least an hour. That's when pulled out the Benadryl about 2 hours too late.

Do you know what doesn't make this list? The trips that I would categorize as "good trips." You know, the ones where your nursing baby falls asleep on the boob and you're so excited about it that you're willing to keep that hot, sweaty little body pressed against you even though your arm has fallen asleep and you feel the need to move around in your seat so desperately that your skin is crawling. You know, the good trips.

All that to say, we're going to Michigan-- I'm so excited for our flights!