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.