Plane travel not advised. That is the warning label that should have come on my youngest child. Miss L, in all her cuteness, made it loud and clear that she does not enjoy plane travel.
When asked how our flights went once we landed in Minnesota to celebrate the week leading up to Thanksgiving, my reply was simply, “Awful.” When people were surprised because they see how chill Miss L is, I explain.
She yelled, she fussed, she squirmed. It was hot and crowded. The first hour was fine. The second hour was rough. Starting the third and final hour, we had doubt. My husband turned to me and said, “So is this worth it?” And I wasn’t sure.
But you know, as a parent, you deal, you smile, you carry on. We got there, we got to my parent’s house. We had a great week. And, then it was time to go again. I had some dread, but it was so rough on the way over I figured it couldn’t get worse. I was wrong.
The way home Miss L screamed in my face for 28 minutes solid. She is a very healthy seven month old with very powerful vocals. She has found her voice. Once she calmed, I distinctly heard the young couple behind me sigh in irritation. I clearly heard the words, “I don’t ever want one of those.”
So, this made me furious. Then I realized it was ironic. A sort of karmic payback for all the times, pre-kids, that I judged parents on planes with their crying babies and fussy toddlers. I had no idea. I want to find them all and tell them I’m sorry for the stink eye. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.
Nevertheless, we survived. I’m immensely grateful to yoga for the years I’ve learned to stay calm, breathe deeply and just surrender to a difficult moment. And grateful to the woman in front of me with a massive key chain that my screaming, fussy darling girl found enchanting.