Thursday, October 16, 2014

Wishing I Could Jump Out Of This (Severely Delayed) Airplane

Before Baba ("BB" if you'd prefer), I loved air travel.  I did, really did. It was calming, it was adventurous and it was enjoyable. I always managed to fall asleep virtually the minute the engine started and often would not wake until the jagged landing jolted me awake. And, for the love, I wasn't even slightly aware of what being tired was. Those were the days, girl.

After Baba ("AB" appropriately designated with her initials), there is almost nothing more torturous than travelling on an airplane with a child. I seriously loathe it. It's exhausting, it's messy and I sweat buckets - attempting to keep her calm, happy and still. And, she's two.

The good news here is that I am getting the tiniest glimmer that this despised activity may, indeed, be getting easier. And, my reasoning behind it is simple: Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Yeah, yeah, I really want to be a screen-free family. But, hell. On an airplane anything goes.

We flew across the country two weeks ago. Just Baba and me. I honestly would have rather been tarred and feathered, but it was for my Grandma, so it was entirely worth it. Especially now that I have gotten past the hangover that resulted from our return trip.

The flight to our destination was as close to flawless as it could have been. My perfect angel sat on my lap for the entire trip, alternating between eating and watching Mickey. Don't judge. She was quiet. And, happy.

In the middle of our trip was a perfect visit with a little old woman who counted her blessings every moment we were there.  She embraced each passing second with her great grand-child and relished in the fact that the yellow rain boots she gave Baba did not come off her feet for the entire long weekend.

It then came time to leave. And, fly home. At this point, I think maybe my guard broke down. And, that's when all hell broke loose.

A three-hour trip back to Denver became a three-and-a-half hour sit on the tarmac. Followed by the three hour flight. And, a (very tired) little one.

I won't even go into the fact that our (severely) delayed flight made our connection impossible. And, that this dumbass Momma completely neglected packing anything that would benefit us in this scenario. Granted, I had an entire bag packed of toys given to Baba by the family, but not one change of clothes, underwear or toothbrush. Not even enough diapers or wipes.

The entire day(s) was crap. But, Baba made it. And, she made it with as much grace and poise as a two-year-old can muster. During the entire ordeal, I wanted nothing more than to hurl myself out of the plane. I wanted to scream and I wanted to cry. I wanted to be anywhere other than there.

Because I hate air travel now, right?!

But, my child proved something big to me that day. It's not nearly as bad as I convinced myself that it would be. Even with the disaster of our return, it wasn't all that bad. And, good thing we're not going anywhere in the near future.

Sanity = Mickey

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