To the Man in Seat 17C...

Dear Gentleman in Seat 17C,

Thank you.  You are awesome. 

This past Thursday, I had to fly home to bury my uncle.  I was bringing my two month old along, and I was terrified because she's colic-y.  I couldn't drive because I have 3 other kids at home and a husband who could take only 1 day off. 

So I gritted my teeth and boarded the plane, my daughter shrieking in my ear.  I sat by the window for the extra two inches of space, and over a wing, hoping that the extra noise would calm/muffle my baby. 

You sat down in the aisle and smiled at me.  A geniune smile, not an oh-crap-a-baby-on-the-plane smile.  "How old?" you politely inquired.

"Two and a half months," I replied, flustered by the baby shrieking.

Your smiled broadened.  "Don't worry," you said.  "Babies cry.  She isn't going to bother me.  You are doing great."

I proceeded to rock back and forth like a maniac, since that was the only thing that would keep my daughter calm.  When a woman took the seat between us, you smiled at her as well -- the same geniune smile you had given me.

For the next hour, I rocked and hummed, fed and burped, soothed and patted.  My daughter still fussed.  You ignored us, content to go about your business.  The lady in 17B kept glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, sighing in a passive aggressive way that only served to elevate my stress level. 

"I'm sorry," I said, after the twentieth sigh, as I was near tears myself. "I'm doing everything I can." 

"Babies just shouldn't fly," 17B sniffed. 

Tears filled my eyes as a dozen retorts danced on my tongue.  Before I could say anything, you, Gentleman in 17C, spoke up.

"Can I buy you a drink?" you asked 17B.  "Because you really need to loosen up." 

I gave a tear filled laugh.  My baby quieted.  17B started at you, mouth agape.  You went back to your newspaper. 

The plane landed and you smiled at me again.  "You did fabulous," you told me.  "And so did your little one."  17B didn't say a word. 

So thank you, Gentleman in 17C.  You are a hero.  A Knight in Shining Armor.  A Prince Among Men.  You made me feel like an excellent mother, simply by offering to buy a stranger a drink. 

I wish good things for you.  And I hope to repay the favor to another parent some day.

Warmly,

Shannon

Why I Will Never Fly With My Kids Alone AGAIN

~

Because my son is two.

Because there is no safe room in which to put my son when he throws a tantrum (like at home).

Because when you have to turn Sleeping Beauty off so the pilot can land the plane, my son will lose it.

Because sitting next to a screaming, red faced, furious two year old while all the other passengers stare at you is embarrassing.

Because my son can throw a temper tantrum for an hour - an HOUR! - without stopping.

Because when your son decides to go limp and you are 18 weeks pregnant and have a 3 year old, a car seat, two carry-ons and your daughter's stuffed bear to carry, you can't just pick him up.

Because the flight attendant will say to you in a syrupy voice, "Oh dear! Someone looks mad! What can I do?" as your son tries to kick the seat in front of him and wails "No!" repeatedly. And all you want to do is hand her your son and say, "Can you gate check this please?"

Because my husband could hear us coming five minutes before he saw us.

Because my daughter's screaming, "Brother, you stop crying RIGHT NOW!" wasn't helpful.

Because other people were telling me to beat my child. (Seriously. Two women told me "If that were my kid, he would have gotten a spanking by now." Please explain to me how smacking my child will get him to stop crying? I have never understood that.)

Because when I forget about this little incident, and decide to take my kids up to San Francisco by myself in a few months, you will write me brief note, reminding me to read this blog post.

What would you do?

I'm flying up North to see my family this weekend. With Girlie and Boyo. By myself. The thought of it makes me slightly ill.

Girlie has flown several times before - no prob. She's easy - a new coloring book, a new box of crayons, and a juice cup and she will forget she's on a plane.

Boyo scares the bejeezus out of me. The last time he was on a plane he was six months old. And he is not a calm, listen-to-Mommy-follow-directions-type of toddler.

I'm scared that this is going to happen.

So I'm scared of the flight, excited for the challenge, and wondering if my belief in my ability to handle two toddlers on an airplane is stronger than my actual ability to handle two toddlers on an airplane.

And, as I do with everything, I'm planning ahead like crazy. DVD player, check. New toys, check. Enough snacks to get us through a week, check. A change of clothes, check. 100 diapers, check.

Each kid gets their own seat. And hence, my predicament...

...do I drag Boyo's carseat through the airport so I can put him in his seat, thereby restraining him for the flight? The thought of dragging it through the airport, with two kids and all their sh#$ is a very daunting task.

...or do I check it and hope and pray (hard), that my son will sit docilely on the airplane, trapped between me and the window, and calmly eat snacks, drink juice, and watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. The thought of him refusing to do sit quietly, possibly (probably) screaming, climbing, and doing God knows what else, is also very daunting.

What would you do?