Thursday, June 11, 2009

Going on a Jet Plane

Why is it that no matter what, when children and travel are combined, the only thing that comes out of it is chaos? My daughter, Makensie, and I have traveled quite a bit in the last few weeks. We just returned from Denver, where we spent the week with my niece and nephew while my brother and his wife took a much-needed adult respite in the mountains, and now we’re headed to Tulsa for my cousin’s wedding party. We don’t leave until tomorrow, but already my stomach is in knots. I know that at 11 o’clock tonight (when I should have long been in bed getting much-needed sleep for the impending journey), I will glance toward the front door at the three full bags and a jogging stroller brimming with “necessities,” and I will no doubt wonder to myself: “Why do we have so much stuff for a trip that will be finished in less than two days?!” The answer: Because if we don’t have Baby and BB and Bubba and Blanket and Bear Backpack and Passies and Fishies and Juice and Cheddar Bunnies and Cereal Bars and Diapers and Wipes, not to mention 8 outfits apiece “just in case,” how will we ever survive the next four hours in airports and on airplanes and the next two days in Tulsa? You gotta do what you gotta do, and since I alone am embarking on this journey with no help and a not-yet-two-year-old, I’m going to err on the side of caution and take everything but the kitchen sink. No matter that I have to park my car a mile away in satellite parking and haul all three bags, overloaded jogging stroller filled to the brim, and daughter clutching BB and Baby and God knows what else she’ll want to hold herself (“I got it!”) all the way across the lot, into the airport, through check-in and security, and down to our gate all by myself. I’m a single mom. Is there anything I can’t do!?