Flyin'

Sometimes when I’m loading three to six kids, 875 suitcases, eight carry-ons and my husband onto a plane, I have trouble remembering why we moved in together.  It certainly was easier to fly across the country by myself…

On the way to Boston at the beginning of June, I flew with my three kids out of the Minneapolis airport.  They are nine, nine and twelve, and have been flying since they were born, so they are pretty good at it.  They understand the basics – just do as you’re told, keep track of your crap and don’t worry, mom packed enough toys, books and snacks in your backpack to last six months.

I can settle them in with whichever electronic game/music device/dvd player they haven’t lost yet and spend the next two hours reading, writing or drinking $7 cocktails from a plastic cup.  I know if I yell “run” in an airport, they will run.  They have been known to make it all the way through an airport in four minutes.  I know if I say “hold it.” They will hold it.  If I say “jump,” they say, “how high?”  If I say “shush,” well, they are kids, right? 

Bill’s kids have not traveled nearly as often, so I was a bit concerned about their journey to the East coast two weeks later.  They have only flown a handful of times.  Each time, they were excited and happy, but not quite as independent…or quiet.

Bill’s excitement started the night before.  He called to say that Brianna had chosen a dinner location in Minneapolis inside the Mall of America.  I told him I was sure that she was just really excited about crepes and that her decision probably had nothing to do with the gigantic amusement park in the center of the mall…

About two hours later, Bill called again.  He sounded half dead and I could hear the kids screaming behind him.  It seemed they were staging a mutiny.  “I broke my flip flop,” he said.  He sounded like he might be slowly dying inside.  “I don’t know what to do.” The Mall of America is a wonderful tourist attraction, but it is completely useless for locating the one item you actually need – especially if you are trying to do it with three kids who are hyped up on sugar and roller coaster rides.  I politely suggested that perhaps he could visit one of the 95 thousand available shops in the Mall of America, but he was in no shape to try things on or make fashion decisions.  I googled his favorite kind of sandals and found them at the DSW in the mall.  I called over there and got a friendly saleswoman on the phone.

“How can I help you?”

“I’ve made a tragic mistake…I sent my husband and three small children to the mall and I fear they won’t make it out, forget about finding what they’re looking for.”

 “Oh, honey!  How can I help!?”

I laughed, gave her the item number for Bill’s favorite flip flops and asked her to see if she could locate a pair in his size.  She came back to the phone a few minutes later, successful and still laughing.

“Thank you so much,” I gushed.  “Please keep them at the front desk for him.  He’ll be the one who looks like he just took three kids to the mall and his life might be over…”

I texted Bill that his shoes were waiting from him at the DSW and gave him the exact mall location.  Judging from his grateful response, I’m pretty sure he had been ready to give up and was planning to fly across the country barefoot.

Bill's mall adventure with the children left me more than a little concerned about the upcoming cross-country flight, but the next morning he seemed to be off to a pretty good start.  He texted about two and half hours before his flight,  “In a strange turn of events, we are on the shuttle to the airport…wait for it…wait…30 minutes early!” 

I texted back in awe and received the following response:  “Hopefully we will have everything when we get there…luggage, toys, kids, limbs, eyes, noses…you know, the essentials.” 

Me: “LOL”

Him: “Holy $#!% Batman!  Through Security!  Hotel to gate in less than 30 minutes!

Me: “Woah! I’m impressed!”

Him: “Phst…ain’t nothing, just 10 minutes per kid.

Then, a few minutes later…

Him: First lost item: Levi going to the bathroom realized he doesn’t have any underwear on.

 Oh well, at least he had the “essentials.”  The good news is that when I packed Levi’s carry-on, I had included several extra pairs of underwear…

A few hours later, Bill looked absolutely exhausted as he approached the baggage carousel in Logan airport, but he had managed to make it with all three kids intact.  He stood by as the kids clamored around me to tell their stories about their travels.  Loaded down with the kids’ backpacks, stuffed animals and snacks, he looked like he had been through hell. 

He related to me a story of spilled drinks, flight-attendant-button-pushing shenanigans, spilled crackers, broken DVD players, lost toys, delayed flights, spilled legos, bathroom emergencies and noise-barrier breaking screams.  I promised him that when he and I flew home with his kids two weeks later, he wouldn’t be quite so outnumbered.

I'd tell you the story of our flight home, but I'm still repressing the memory.  I'm not 100 percent certain that Frontier Airlines will let us fly with them again.  I'm not 100 percent certain that I want to...

I’ve flown with all six kids, with my three, with his three and just with Bill.  There are benefits to each one, truly – with all six you get pre-boarding.  With Bill I get an extra tray to hold my drinks.  But alone, flying is the most relaxing thing I get to do, ever.  I am completely unreachable.  It doesn’t matter if you have spilled your milk, lost your favorite toy/cd/electronic device, or if your brother just smacked you.  Someone else is in charge – Mama’s flyin’.  

© Jody Hoffman 2011

 

 

Comments

[melanie]

You are too funny! I almost peed my pants I was laughing so hard at Levi discovering he had no underwear on! I love the final picture too btw.