Flying

I used to love airports. The hustle, the farewells, the reunions, the excitement of travel. I can't say I now feel the same. Since my family lives a coutry away, the boys and I are frequent fliers. Now when I am at an airport I know I am about to be confined to a 5 foot by 3 foot cell with my sons for the next 8 hours. People always ask how the boys do on the plane for so long. It isn't fun, but they do alright. Of course I have had some really bad experiences to measure trips by.

One flight stands high as an example of just how bad a flight can be. Nicholas was a baby and I was flying home from Las Vegas by myself. While in the airport, Nicholas's diaper leaked and soaked through his clothes. I changed him into his spare outfit and boarded the plane. We sat down, buckled, and took off. During take off, Nicholas went again. Only this time, his diaper exploded. There was poop all over him, the blanket he was wrapped up in, and of course me. And there I sat unable to get up, because the plane was taking off. As soon as the flight attendands got up I went to the bathroom. Since I had already used Nicholas's spare outfit, all I had to put him in was a white onesie. It might not have been so bad if it was colored but I really looked red neckish walking around with my baby in only a white onesie. Then there was the whole issue of me, being covered. Of course I didn't have a spare outfit for me in my diaper bag. So there I was in the tiny airplane bathroom, trying to wash my shirt in the sink while balancing my baby on the toilet seat. And all of this happened in the first half hour of my 8 hour voyage. I was able to buy a Tshirt in the St Louis airport and change there. But, I couldn't find any baby clothes so Nicholas stayed in his white onesie. On this trip my ears also filled with liquid and I was deaf and in a lot of pain when I landed.

So using that trip as a measuring stick, my kids were awesome and the plane ride was a breeze.