I'm On A Plane

Where to begin?  Let's start with the where. Newark to LAX to visit my sister and brother-in-law for Christmas.  

My days pre-trip were plagued with high anxiety about flying with a toddler--so much so that I almost pulled the plug on the trip twice. And yes, I know "everyone does it" (eye roll), but that didn't offer my virgin mom-flyer self any solace.  

The trip to LA is the longer of the two legs. Astonishingly, It was a breeze. People were friendly. And helpful. No lines, no hassle, no shoes removed, and not a lot of idle waiting around. I almost expected sparrows to fly up and hand me a card at the gate that said we'd been bumped to first class. And, on the flight, EJ was a dream. Like poster child, front of Sky Mall catalog dream (minus the yorgurt stains on his shirt). Sat in his seat the whole time. Displayed enough excitement to be cute but not annoying. Didn't cry once. Napped for two hours. Became an expert finger manipulator of i-Pad toddler puzzles (hello, Harvard). I actually watched a movie and read a magazine. I don't even get to do that at home.  In fact, once we landed, I decided that EJ and I were going to travel all over the world. And, since flying was so simple, I could start to dress like those posh, stylish traveler ladies I envied as I double-knotted my Nikes and the waistband of my sweatpants. 

Then we landed and our trip happened.

And now I'm back on a plane. And reality has hit. Apparently my first flight was a unicorn of air travel experiences. This time, I got the real deal, dawg. Crowds. Lines. Endless waiting. Everyone coughing and sneezing. Grumpiness. A toddler perpetually on the brink of a meltdown. No personal TVs. An understocked drink cart. No nap, which means no bathroom for me, as EJ cannot know walking in the aisle is an option. I am frazzled, smelly, achy, and tired, and now my first flight seems like a mirage in the desert (probably because I'm thirsty). As I curl my knees to my chest and position the i-Pad so that EJ can watch "Planes" from an angle that doesn't make him cry, I am thanking the lord for my sweatpants, and now that stylish lady two rows up in the houndstooth cape and skinny Hudson jeans just looks ridiculous.

We'll be landing soon. And I know flying will become like so many other parental experiences--from childbirth to driving lessons. I'll be proud of myself for getting through it, forget all the rough parts, and want to do it again. See you soon, friendly skies.

Deeds and Monuments

In the midst of the hustle and bustle of this holiday season, I've been reminded about what's really important.  Unfortunately, poignant reminders often come on the wings of sadness, tragedy, or despair, but if some good is garnered from bad, then so be it.


Since the only books I am reading lately are about first plane rides (EJ and I will be visiting LA for Christmas), magical elves who race to tell Santa when you refuse to eat your peas, and various animals using the potty for the first time, I will once again refer to a book I'm reading aloud to my fifth grade class.  My genius is profound, I know.

I'll spare you a synopsis of  R.J Pallacio's Wonder, and just say it's a phenomenal book with so much depth, substance, and humor.  Really good stuff. Anyways, the chapter I just finished reading to the kids revolves around the precept/quote YOUR DEEDS ARE YOUR MONUMENTS.  I keep thinking about that as myself and people everywhere race around to purchase, wrap, and give away stuff, stuff, stuff.  And sure, the stuff is great.  Big or small, expensive or simple, gifts bring joy to those around us.  I'm seeing this firsthand as my two-year-old receives presents and squeals "Whoa!?" for every single thing he opens...from a racecar track to the pack of AA batteries that powers it. But what happens in the weeks and months after the holidays when the new stuff is old hat and broken in?  What are we remembering then? Not the stuff.

We are all surrounded by temples, totem poles, and towers.  They are the monuments of those we love...unseen manifestations of legacies built up brick by brick by their words and actions. I've been lucky enough to know so many wonderful, strong, funny, good people who have left me a plethora of heartwarming memories....enough to fill dozens of museums and be archived in my memory forever...free to visit whenever I need.

I sometimes wonder what my monuments look like...what memories I'm leaving behind for my family and friends.  And, as I get caught up in the business of December, I'm trying to leave scraps of kindness and good deeds that will certainly outlive anything I can put in a box and wrap. I hope you do the same.  Happy holidays.