As much as I love the movie, (excepting Ghostbusters, of course, is there a better comedy from the 80s?) I am not a fan of actually being on an Airplane. I'm just not a very good flier. I'm the bad kind of flier that can't even dull the pain by having a few pre-flight drinks....too nervous.
On our honeymoon, we had to fly, through the rain, to what I was afraid would be our final destination in a tiny 6-seater tin can with wings. If I wasn't still riding my wedding-high, I wouldn't have gotten on the plane. I watch the scenes on The Bachelor, where the "happy" couple are crammed together in an itty bitty helicopter or seaplane, needing headphones to talk to each other, with sweaty palms wondering how on Earth so many people can "honestly" utter the phrase, "This is something I've ALWAYS wanted to do!" Liars.
And so, I've flown very few times in my life, and only when necessary. In fact, I haven't flown at all in the last 6+ years. And I was Totally Fine With That.
Then we decided to visit my Mom Mom in Florida. Evan had been begging to go back to her Beach House for months and I was looking forward to a visit with my mom's mom. We've made the 14-hour drive many times but we're going for a quick long-weekend this time and can't afford to devote that much time to travel in exchange for lost beach/visiting time.
Sam's sister and her boyfriend decided to get married! In Texas! Which is practically un-drivable no matter how long you plan to stay.
My brother and his girlfriend decided to get married!! In MONTANA! Which, short of renting an RV, (which is too close to camping for comfort in my book) is TOTALLY un-drivable unless you're a bunch of college kids on a road-trip to Wherever, Man!
Which we're not. We're a family of one normal adult, one neurotic adult, one worrier preschooler, and one Wild Thing toddler. How the hell are we going to manage flying? Not to mention the fact that when we make our near-cross country flights for the weddings, we'll add to that chaos a teeny tiny baby.
At dinner tonight, Evan was in tears, demanding that we drive. (Same kid that refuses to ride the preschool's school bus on field trips. Same kid that, at a local festival where kids can get into and push the buttons of and turn on the sirens of dozens of REAL (parked) work trucks, rescue vehicles, etc., prefers instead to stand at a distance, hands over his ears, saying, "Wow. Cool." Same kid that swears up and down that he's going to drive a backhoe or a grapple loader or a giant excavator or a hook and ladder fire truck when he grows up. A kid can dream....)
Max had to be forcibly removed from the library today because of his Wild Thing behavior (but I'll eat him up, I love him so). Can you IMAGINE him on a PLANE?
And then there's me.
And an infant.
On a plane.
Three separate times.
Shirley, I can't be serious.
So help me figure out how to convince my four-year old to get onto the plane (I'm thinking lollipops and marshmallows?) and how to keep my 2-year old occupied during the flight. Also, feel free to share any other tips, tricks, must-haves, and helpful reminders of how to successfully, safely, and sanely travel with little ones.