Planes and Babies don't mix... no really... they don't.

I was always under the impression that flying was fairly easy. And at some times could be considered rather relaxing. You get a good book, maybe your iPod and you're set. But this all changes when you have children. It doesn't matter how many, it is ALWAYS difficult. One is not so hard as two. Two is not as hard as three... and it just gets worse I can only imagine! I had two children under the age of 2 yrs and 2 months. Saying under the age of three years just doesn't sound right because that would imply that A is actually close to the age of three and he is no where near the mental capacity or the age of a three year old. He is still my cute little two year old; busy, distracted, jealous of little brother, and very, very stubborn!

So I decided that with my two year old and 6 month we would fly to Oregon and it would be cake. Busy sure, but not that bad. And I was right, extremely BUSY! We arrived early enough thanks to my wonderful ride, Summer. I had two suitcases and two car seats... two kids...a double stroller, myself and two carry ons. You know that one movie- Home Alone- I felt like that woman, running around all over the airport in a hurry with a load of stuff going on... and there was only three of us total! We got to the x-ray/check through spot and my IDs didn't match and they had to pull me aside to find more proof that I was who I said I was. I appreciate that they are so thorough, but the guy wasn't all that thrilled with "dealing" with me. Thank gosh they let me through after about 10 minutes! I finally got in line to go through the censor bars or whatever they're called, my stroller is huge, so I asked the guy what to do with it and he wanted me to try to fold it up and put it through the x-ray machine. *Really man!? Do you see how BIG this thing is??* I did it anyway and once he discovered that it can't go through their machine, he called someone to come by and pat it down. So here I am, waiting with a 6 month old that I do NOT dare put on the airport ground and A who's running around without shoes on, while they make sure I haven't stashed drugs or knives inside my stroller. If I really wanted to sneak that crap in I would have been more clever than that. Maybe I just look TOO innocent to be believed. Or perhaps I just have a "I'm trying to get away with something bad" face. Whatever the case may be- I AlWaYs get stopped.

Once they realize that I wasn't hiding knives or fingernail clippers anywhere I was allowed my stroller back. And of course- Southwest's gate is the furthest one away. Once we get there we have about 1/2 hour before the plane takes off, but I have to stand in a stupid line so they can mark the stroller. They have 3 or 4 people up front and only ONE computer open. The guy behind me huffed and puffed about how stupid it was that they didn't open more computers so the line could go faster, and as soon as they started boarding our plane I was starting to feel the same way. There was no way I wanted to get on last and no way I wanted to sit separate from A.
Fast forward. We got on the plane, found a seat together. Window seat thank gosh. Sat next to the one child hating passenger there was. And I tried to relax as best I could. I observed a dead bug on the wall... wondered if it was older than me. Most likely. Then focused on my kids. A wanted to eat and so did little E. Not such an easy feat when the man next to me doesn't want to be touched and E wants to flail all over place. A finally got his A sized cheetos and E got his bottle.... now I just had to survive the 1 1/2 flight:

• 3 tantrums thrown over... 1.E was touching A   2.A had to have his seatbelt on  3.I wasn't drawing or holding or touching his coloring book the way A wanted me to. 
  
• 2 bottles drank by E equaling in about 4 formula spills
• 6+ bumps to the neighbor. He tried to read, gave that up, he tried to listen to his iPod and sleep... don't know how well that went.
• 1 little busy E refusing to sleep. He wanted to bounce up and down in my lap. Meaning if you were behind me you would have seen his little head poking up and down over the seat.
• 1 A, *Mine!*   *NOOOO*   *My colors!*   *NOO!*   *No E!*   *more snack?*   *more water* *plane...plane...plane*   *sky Mommy, the sky*
• 1 adoring flight attendant.
• 3 pilot pins for A.
• AND 1 epic headache for me!

Boy do I ever love being a Mom. I better get oober kudos for this kind of stuff when I die. Because frankly both of them are lucky to be alive. But really, I loved it once I just accepted my fate and stopped trying to put E to sleep and keep A seated.