I’d say it’s a almost a no-brainer that the hot messes were plentiful on our flight to South Padre Island. Little tornadoes are basically unavoidable with 2 toddlers on a 90 passenger plane. The excitement began as we made our way through the airport. For some reason the check-in clerk only printed mine and Chief’s boarding passes. So off we went through the line as Dad and Peach made the trek all the way back to the beginning. Shall I set the scene? Double stroller, overstuffed back pack, 2 big convertible car seats, diaper bag and squirmy 14 month old. I’m sure we’ll breeze right through security! *sarcasm*
My instructions: remove car seats and move them to specific location, move stroller and all bags, remove shoes and child from baby carrier. All by myself. If I put my son on the ground he literally just runs away. I was about to tear up and it was only 10AM. Some dude even helped me get my shoe on finally.
Not sure why the TSA thinks I’m always smuggling drugs… I’m not that exciting. But really though, why me? After endless swabs, pokes and prods we’re finally set free. It doesn’t really feel like freedom though because now I’m stuck again. With a huge freaking stroller, 2 car seats, buck wild child and no husband in sight. But there was a bar in sight… mimosa please!
Fast forward to the plane. Naturally, I went for the bargain tickets which mean Chief was stuck on my lap and we couldn’t reserve seats in advance. With Chief strapped on me in the Ergo-360 I find my spot. There’s an open seat next to me. As passengers file on I keep silently praying it’s not the old dude with long beard, 20 something frat boy or the polished business man that’s going to be our neighbor. I’m also not oblivious to the fact these men probably feel the exact same way. Luckily my husband and daughter are across the aisle from me. I keep shooting him looks as boarders pass us. Please God! *stares towards the heavens*.
At last a young woman stops. It’s her lucky day. 😬 I find out later she’s my age and has 2 kids. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, I don’t believe in coincidences.
We take off. It’s approximately toddler nap time. Perfect. I’m sure they’ll sleep like angels the whole flight. Or try, NOT AT ALL. At this point, I just want Chief to be quiet. Peach too. That seems easier at this rate while my husbands tossing fruit snacks at her as fast as her grimy hands can grab them.
Our seats are cramped and Chief is wiggling all over. As soon as I can, I order an overpriced cocktail. The flight attendant must feel for me. She doesn’t charge me. (There are angels among us!)
I figure Chief and Peach must need to wet their whistles so I grab the Camelbak and Contigos. *pop* I open the tops and you’d think you were at Niagara Falls. Water starts spraying out in a huge fountain up in the air. It just keeps coming and I can’t seem to control it. Not many were spared. Including the grumpy business man and a couple spring breakers in the row ahead. I offer up my flimsy cocktail napkin as a sorry-feel bad for me-gesture. My hub and I start the nervous laughter… if you know me, more like hysterical laugh-crying. *chugs lukewarm vodka soda*.
Peach needs to pee. Thank you, God,she told us. Husband and I take turns bringing her to the toilet. We’ve been in 4 times now. She’s too scared to go. It’s loud. It’s dark. It’s cramped. Heck, I’m scared too. Where exactly does the pee go when you flush?… Note worthy- the bathroom was up through first class where we repeatedly had to pass by Afroman. *because I got high…* (probably should have gotten high before this 😉)
The flight attendant walks by. I order another drink. She mixes it for me and doesn’t charge again. I’m thinking she must be a mom. I could kiss her.
At last, I get Chief to fall asleep. But now it’s time to prepare to land. Another attendant tells me he can’t be in the carrier and I have to unclip him. No! Please no! He finally fell asleep and I’m quite certain the whole entire plane is really happy about that.
Well, I oblige and free him. He’s still sleeping! Until, my arm rest comes flinging down and smashes his head. Insert scream-crying, over tired 14 month old.
Just get me To. The. Beach.
To be continued…(flight home in Part 2)
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