Mid-Air Carnage and other things...

AND I'M BACK!!

Sorry about the absence, we just got back from a mini holiday up in sunny Queensland!
It was a quick one, but great to be with the family and catch up with some we don't see often enough. There was a lot of laying about in the hotel pool and we did go to "White Water World" which was a blast.

Coolie Beach

I'm going to put this out there though.
I will never fly again whilst I have children under the age of 4. I'm dead serious.



It could quite possibly be the closest thing to hell on earth (well technically off it, but you get my drift!).
2 and a half pain filled hours in a tin can from which you cannot escape, you cannot hide, you cannot run!

In the air... everybody can hear your kids scream.

That should be the tagline for prospective flying mums and dads. For me, I don't think there is a worse scenario.

And I knew this would be the case too. In the days leading up to our departure, I could feel the icy dread in the bottom of my spine. The night before it was a solid lump in my stomach. Kind of like the sickening feeling you have on a Sunday night, knowing you have to get up for work tomorrow (I joke I joke). I knew 100% that pain was coming and there was nothing I could do about it. I knew Noah would hate being caged up for more than 2 hours, heck the boy doesn't like even sitting still for 2 minutes.

I knew that within the flight time Emily would go through several different needs, feeding, changing, feeding, sleeping and maybe another feed.
She likes food, she takes after me you know! And how does a 6 month old tell you what she needs?

Crying.

Perfect.

I tried to firm a steely resolve. It was a finite period of time, I just had to be as prepared as possible, bite my lip and trudge forward. It wouldn't last forever, it would be ok.

It wasn't.

We all boarded the plane. We got seated quickly, everything was running fairly smoothly. Take off was on schedule. I put Noah in the window seat as I knew he'd be excited to see our plane and all the other things driving around the airport.

That was about as good as it got.

Bing. The tone sounded for all passengers to put their seatbelts on in preparation for takeoff. No problem. I had already buckled in, I lean over to put Noah's seatbelt on. BAM!! Mr. excited was not so interested in sitting prim and proper in his seat with his belt on. There was so much cool stuff to see.

"DON'T LIKE IT!! DON'T LIKE IT!!" was the outcry.

In hushed tones I tried to explain why it was important to be buckled in. I could feel the panic beginning to rise. My 2 year old boy just couldn't comprehend needing to wear a belt.
So when I made him sit in his seat and told him he could not stand up to look out his window anymore, his response was .......

carnage.

A tantrum in public is one thing. Wide open spaces, shopping centres, parks all afford you the ability to escape to a quieter place or enough room to not actually bother anyone.

A tantrum in a plane, with people crammed into each others personal space without any chance of escape is a scary scenario for me. A completely different monster.

It's fair to say that this was one of Noah's finer tantrums. Screaming and wailing(crying is too soft a word), kicking the occupied chair in front of us, spitting ( I know right? doesn't even make sense. maybe I should try it next time in an heated argument. Spit spit, there I win!) Flailing limbs etc etc.

Now I wasn't just sitting there waiting for it all to subside. I was in there. Parlaying, explaining, warning, pleading, begging, grovelling. Somewhat in that order too. And all the while my mind was spinning. We made a mistake getting on this plane. Was it too late? Could we somehow still evacuate before takeoff even though we were on the runway? Was there an eject button somewhere.

And whilst I was dealing with the ruckus on my left, to my right I heard a distinct cry.

My gut dropped. I knew that cry.

Maria looked at me. I looked at Maria.

"Emmy's hungry."

Can a 6 month old be inconsiderate? Did she wait till we got on the plane to inform us of her need for milk?
Her grumbling cry had already become a frustrated wail. A high pitched note purely designed to jangle the human brain into action. That cry was thousands of years of evolution in the making.
Darwin would be proud.

Lined up for take off.
Noah's officially lost his marbles. Probably on the floor somewhere back home.
Emily is now lying on the fold out tray table getting a feed, still sobbing between breaths at how poorly she's being treated. (I mean, who should have to wait for food?)
I am staring disconsolately at the back of the chair in front of me. A glaze of despair filming over my eyes.

All before we have even taken off. I don't eve know how many rules were being broken at this stage.

I look over at my brothers family in the row over from us. Children a perfect picture, not a peep out of them. He smiles a knowing smile. I want to punch him in the mouth. Not really. Maybe just throw some dried sultanas at him and hope one gets him in the eye. Or something like that.

Once in the sky I took Noahs belt off straight away and the wailing stopped. It was still hectic for about 10-15 minutes after that. Finally we managed to get things under control a bit and got noahs attention turned onto a movie we had on the iphone. Both kiddies managed to have a nap during the flight which was a god send.

Emily did cry most of the way hoever which was refreshing. At one point one of the hostesses, who thoughout the flight well meaningly but annoyingly was offering suggestions as how to keep our children(or rabble) under control (Secretly it made me resent her), actually came up and asked if she could try having a hold of Emily to see if she could calm her down(like she would be more successful than mum and dad.)
I half expected her to promptly turn on her heels and put her in a capsule, put the capsule in a tube and press the eject button much to the applause of the rest of the cabin.

Needless to say she did not calm Emily down at all.
In a morbid kind of way I was gleefully happy the stewardess failed. I burned with admiration for my Emily's stubborn resolution. She was going to make everyone in the plane miserable regardless of who was holding her.

Eventually the captain announced our descent to our destination.

All I can say is... DAMN YOU PHYSICS!! damn you and your air pressure science to hell!!

How do you explain to a 2 year old to simply pop your ears to relieve the small pressure build up?
Such a simple thing, but completely impossible to impart to a 2 year old.
I tried though. I tried explaining, I tried showing him with some ridiculous gesturing. I tried grabbing his  nose and realised it looked like I was trying to give him the ol' vulcan death grip.

So more screaming, kicking and spitting ensued.

We did eventually get there though. My parents had very cleverly booked their seats up the other end of the plane, saying they were the only other seats available when they booked us in.

Very sneaky.

Dad looked at us as we all arrived at the baggage carouseld, looking bedraggled and weary, and asked

" Was that your kids crying in the back? We didn't know whose it was, I mean we could barely hear them. Good flight?"

I want to punch him in the mouth. Not really. Maybe just throw some dried sultanas at him and hope one gets him in the eye. Or something like that.

-Wes-
The Family Man.

P.S- I'm not the only one am I? Please tell me some of you have had these moments? The holiday was fantastic though, just the getting there was not so fun.