I Can Do It Better.

 

My husband and I are celebrating. We have chicken picatta with a creamy caper sauce and string beans. There’s wine and a brownie dessert. We’re so happy we’re giddy and finally checking out the in-flight movies…

Yes, we are 40,000 feet in the air eating microwave food and drinking Chardonnay that was poured out of a plastic bottle.

We’re headed across the world to a little island called Malta. It’s a seven-hour flight to Paris, followed by a two-hour layover, and then another four-hour flight to Malta. My family lives there. All of them and they are so excited to meet my new addition!

I, on the other hand, have quickly realized just how difficult flying with a one-year-old is. When people would ask if I was bringing Asher I would excitedly respond yes! And laugh at how it may not be a great idea with such a long flight and big time difference but I didn’t really understand just how difficult it would be.

The fussing started before we even got on the plane. I could feel the stares as everyone was bunched waiting for their zones to be called to let them on the plane. They all were praying they wouldn’t be near us as my baby started crying. My usually happy baby was so exhausted and overwhelmed and the traveling hadn’t even started yet.

We boarded first and Asher was excited as he looked around to the new surroundings. It got old quickly and before we knew it the crying was back louder than before. We bounced and played music and tried everything to hold him off until take off.

Finally, we were moving and I nursed Asher as we took off. He was content and comfortable. Until he was finished nursing and he was ready to go. He wanted out of our laps and on the go. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot from exhaustion and he had a cough and runny nose. As we tried rocking him to sleep he became hysterical and I could see the eyes peering back at us through the seats. The people in the rows next to us glancing over and the looks of disappointment as his crying became harder.

I wanted to slide down out of my seat onto the floor. All I kept telling myself was, this wouldn’t bother me if I wasn’t a mom. He isn’t being that bad. But I knew it would. I knew that those young girls in the seat beside us were rolling their eyes as high as they could go. The boy that was in the seat next to the one the kind stewardess moved us to to give us an extra seat was moaning at his bad luck. My mind kept going back to when a friend had told me of her recent flying adventure and how a screaming child ruined the entire flight. My mind kept going back to how I said my kid would not do that.

Yep. I said that. Now I wish I could go find that lady and hug her. Tell her how I thought I could do it better and yet I couldn’t. My kid was that kid. The snotty, crying, annoying nuisance on an already obnoxiously long flight.

Did I mention we were only an hour into our travels?

I can’t help but think back to all the times I said my kid wouldn’t do something. My kid won’t have screen time, my kid won’t scream in a restaurant or throw food on the floor. My kids will learn better than to throw a tantrum for a toy at the store. My kid won’t cry on an airplane.

And here we are.

It’s oh so embarrassing and extremely grounding. Maybe it’s a natural journey of parenting. We all think we can do it better and yet we all can’t.

So I’ll take the ego hit and drink my cheap wine because not only is my kid finally sound asleep but my been there done that, life-saving mom was the one who endured his screams and got him to pass out so I can enjoy my in-flight movie.

I’ll take that as a mom win today.

 

                          XO, Karlene

Disclaimer: It wasn’t all a disaster and we learned a ton with the total 40 some hours of total travel during the trip! Stay tuned for all of my inflight tips and tricks that worked for us!