Before kids, on an airplane, you think things like this:
- If I have kids, I won’t travel until they are old enough to be respectful.
- Airlines should have flights just for families so I don’t have to deal with this shrieking-effing-chaos.
- If I travel with my kids I’ll damn well make sure they don’t kick the seat in front of them for three hours straight.
- Why doesn’t anyone in this whole f*&king world know how to parent a child??!!??
Well I say, Amen! Preach it! Can I get a Hallelujah?!
If my current self time-traveled back to have appletinis with my former self and her single friends, I would be the one pounding the vodka, and saying, “B*tches! You are soooooo right! And you know what’s worse than sitting in front of the kid kicking you and screaming? Being the owner of that kid.”
I mean, on a plane these gremlins take annoying to a new level of hell.
But here’s the thing, sometimes you have to travel with your sweet gremlins.
I am an over-planner. The kids are always ready. The drug cocktail is always prepped, along with dozens of activities and snacks. Still, things don’t always go your way.
Like today.
And here’s what I was thinking,
- Where are those damn family flights?
- Will I actually ever get off of this plane, or will we just fly around in screaming-toddler purgatory for the rest of our lives?
- Why can’t I be like those parents who pack cute bags of candy for everyone around them and buy a round of drinks?
It wouldn’t have been quite as bad, except that we got viciously chewed out by Mr. Seat21A, who told us we just needed to get control of our kids.
But here’s the thing, Mr. A-Hole-Pants, I do not need to try sitting in front of my children on a plane for three hours to see what it’s like, as you suggest.
Because sitting next to them, trying to provide 250 different types of entertainment and 7 courses of snacks, just to have Baby Woww wake up possessed by a demon… this is actually worse than you getting kicked for three hours. (If only I had packed my excorcism kit! I always forget something!)
And yes, I did take a picture of you so that Beelzebub will have a shot when he comes looking.
(He’s watching The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, a strange choice for a very insensitive guy.)
Yet, there are heroes.
Jessie, in seat 23D, I love you for the rest of my days.
Jessie defended us. She is a grandmother with a fabulous Nashville drawl, and when Mr. A-Hole-Pants told her, “This is none of your business.” She said, “When children or the elderly are bullied, I make it my business.”
I will always, always love you. And I hope I grow up to be you. Because as I’ve talked about before, parenting is not about getting praise for your awesomeness, but finding support in your lowest moments.
Can I get an Amen?!
momsicle 