Sanity Savers Series: Sane On A Plane

Don’t be led down the primrose path by unrealistic visions of Julie Andrews in Salzburg, Austria, twirling in circles with her arms in the air and a beaming smile from earlobe to earlobe. Traveling with children is NOT like that- ever. Uh-uh. No. Straight talk?  In most cases by the time we deplane with our tribe of ten, Andrew looks like an unshaved Tom Hanks in the movie “Cast Away”, and his bride looks about as fresh as Charlize Theron in “Monster”.  Children trail behind us like a parade of survivors who’ve narrowly escaped from a zombie apocalypse invasion. 

Because we’re in the airline biz, our large family spends a considerable amount of time on airplanes with children-AND lest you think this is a message from beyond the grave, I can say we have lived to tell about it. (So far, anyway!) Once you’ve become seasoned by a couple of flights with a baby, it doesn’t take long to start seeing some similarities between traveling and parenting: It requires you to let go of control to a certain extent. It can be unpredictable. Even the most meticulous of plans can go sideways- fast, and when that happens you’re sometimes required to abandon your original plan and pull a Plan B out of your buttcheeks. It can be expensive “AF”. You get to decide on the general plan, but you’re not in charge of the ultimate outcome. There is a proverbial sea of travel gear out there, some items necessary, some “nice to have” and some utterly useless gizmos that you eventually discover weigh a ton and hog up too much space. You take an endless amount of pictures. There are a million options, and if you ask for them (and even if you don’t) people will give you their opinions. It can involve sickness, sleeplessness and challenges you never dreamed of.  At times it can test your closest relationships.

Because of these factors, Andrew and I have found it’s best to keep the expectation factor *low*, or at least reasonable. From our hundreds of flights with “extra baggage”….(AKA children), we have a few experiences under our belts. Hopefully, I can toss you a couple handy survival skills for the duration of the flight, and most importantly, help save your sanity.

Sanity Savers for Flying with the 3-5 Crowd:

Travel Gear: Assistance, Electronics, Hourly Treats. And possibly a Xanax.

Rarely do we ever travel without my incredible nanny.  I’m very lucky- she is a mom of three grown boys herself, plus she actually ran an in-home day care for many years, so I truly have a professional, and with a footprint our family’s size? What can I say other than God knew we NEEDED her in our life! The few times that we have not brought her with us when we travel (even for short distances) have been tolerable, but we usually end up scratching our heads and wondering why on earth we didn’t bring her. We just find we need that extra pair of hands and that extra measure of tolerance.  Plus, she remembers those little things that are on my list but I somehow glaze over while packing, like more diapers and change of clothes than you think you’ll need stashed in carry-on luggage, not in checked baggage. Plus if you’re married or have a partner? Two words: Date Night. Note that I usually try to politely “suggest” things to consider? Well, not on this. I’m aggressively telling you: if you can bring some help with you, don’t even waste time thinking about it, just do it. Repeat after me: Paying someone to help me out is cheaper than paying for my stay in a sanitarium.

An important note about electronics: PUH-LEASE, *For the Love of God*, people, don’t forget the kid-sized headphones!! (Trust me, your seat mate doesn’t want to hear “Do you Want to Build a Snowman?” on infinite loop for 6 hours.) Plus, if you slap adult headphones on a toddler’s head, it’s better than nothing, but you’ve just sentenced yourself to a super fun and non-annoying reoccurring game every 3 minutes called: “Put the Fallen Headphones Back on the Toddler’s Ears!” OK, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, lean in close: Listen, friends. I know full well some of you are against electronics. That’s totally cool. You know my favorite little saying by now: You do you. But while you’re reading the entire Aesop’s Fables series aloud and creating different voices for each character for hours on end, I’ll be kicking back grabbing a few minutes’ peace on an airplane while my kid is chilling watching that strange kids’ program called “Blue’s Clue’s”, (which I swear was created by someone tripping on acid.) Nevermind that the guy on that show is semi-disturbing, this is short-term exposure, people. It’s a simple case of risk management, and the risk is far greater than if the toddler has a meltdown of epic proportions, *I* myself will most likely wind up 5150. 

Moral of the story, Consider giving into temptation, at least temporarily-by jumping onto the Electronics bandwagon. Consider it a method of self-care called Conserving Your Parental Energy, which we all know is not a well-spring that floweth endlessly. You WILL both survive it and your kid will not become addicted to electronics from one flight. This isn’t meth, OK? The truth of the matter is, the child will only stay entertained for 30 mins or so anyway before they remember that they are simultaneously starving to death and need to go to the restroom… again. A final shout out for electronics: In 2018, going nuts on a plane doesn’t sound like a viable option for multiple reasons-but chiefly for me personally because I don’t think I’d last even one hour in prison.  (I mean, come on you guys-we’ve gotta think big picture here.)

Hourly “Gifts”:  OK, so this is specifically for a long haul (but can be used for any flight duration). We flew to Australia to visit Andrew’s family with our first 4 kids when they were approximately ages 2,4,6 and 7.  In the event that they didn’t sleep, I knew there was no way a few tv shows and a coloring page or two was going to be satisfactory.  So I went to the Dollar store and bought 14 one-dollar items for each kid.  I’m just talking cheap junk.  You know: Slinkys, Manga-Doodle, kaleidoscope, little army guys and a tiny plastic bunker- that kind of crap-whatever! So here’s the main idea: Each hour, they opened a “gift” and it brought us about 10-15 minutes- (or more, depending on how well I selected my Dollar Store junk) of entertainment before they got bored of whatever it was.

Specifics of the Hourly “Gifts”: I had individually wrapped each item (actually I tell a lie- my sister-in-law was visiting at that time and I had her do it) in those party favor bags that are mostly see-through, maybe save for a motif or some kind.  Usually whatever design is on the bag is enough to conceal its’ contents just enough for a kid to not be able to see right away what’s inside.  So here’s what you do: dump the item in the party favor bag, roll it up, and wrap a bunch of scotch tape around it to secure it.  The TSA can see through the bags if they want to check out your potentially smuggled, dangerous paraphernalia from the Dollar Store. (insert eye roll and sarcastic thumbs-up sign here.)  But the better part is the time it takes little hands to undo the scotch tape- trust me when I say that every minute counts when you’re stuck in a tube in the sky with 170 plus other passengers, so even killing a good 2 minutes of unwrapping scotch tape to get to the gift is a total bonus. Winning.

And PS, because the “gifts” were so cheap, you can literally just toss them in the trash later when the flight attendants roll around for a final trash collection right at the top of descent.  Hey, in fact, I have a business opportunity for someone: There has got to be one of you out there who would want to go out and procure all the items and wrap them up and throw them into maybe a disposable Chinese food container and sell it on Amazon at oh, say, about 3 times the price. I’d for sure buy it-I mean, doing that shit is time-consuming!  So when you go on Shark Tank, I don’t want a cut of your profits or anything like that, just give me a shout out, kay!? 

Remember:

Our *job* on a flight is to entertain them.  (This is totally against my normal parenting strategy, which is generally to say something very polite to my offspring, such as “I’m so sorry to hear that you’re bored!  That’s a darn shame. Well,  it’s a good thing I gave you siblings. Go grab one of them and pick the lint out of each other’s bellybutton.”)  Said with total empathy, (and zero sarcasm) as all the good parenting books and blogs have trained us all to do. ;)  I do usually get to the compassion eventually, it’s just that my smart ass mouth can sometimes get in the way first. Believe it or not.  ;)

My husband is the chief commercial officer of an airline, and as such he has drilled into our kids since they were very tiny that their airplane etiquette is *paramount.*  We don’t mess around. Therefore, we will do any and everything to get our kids to behave on a plane when they are old enough to know better (I have found this *generally* happens around age 3/4, depending on the child.)  We’re not at all above bribery.  We’ll do whatever it takes to keep toddlers behaving on a plane.  I’ve actually heard myself saying ridiculous, asinine sentences in a Mary Poppins-type sing-songy voice that I would never otherwise say at all under normal circumstances, like: “What’s that you say, my dear child?  In order to watch a fifth episode of ‘Sofia the First’, you would like to find a unicorn’s tooth when we land and bring it home as a souvenir?  Done.”  (Things like a mini marshmallow can become such a tooth later when the toddler’s memory won’t let go of that promise-made-in-desperation.  You just have to get a little creative.) AND a little desperate.

Surrender to the fact that you won’t be binge-watching movies all to yourself or having a deep and meaningful conversation with your spouse, or getting some quality alone time to process your thoughts in your mindfulness journal. (Can you tell these are the things I’ve sophomorically attempted to do while caring for a toddler on a plane? It’s a fool’s paradise.  You might as well shovel snow in the midst of a snowstorm.) No. I’m virtually shaking my head and wagging my finger at you. Just to save your expectations from being crushed, and a few thousand bucks of therapy; with all due respect, you’re going to have to suck it up and be at your kids every beck and call for a few hours, and you might as well just accept that fact now.  And if they are anything like mine, they are smart and they will eventually figure out that they basically have you by the balls on a plane. Well, whatever- sobeit. If you land sane and they land alive, consider the mission accomplished.

Sanity Savers for Flying with The 5-12-year-old Crowd:

Travel Gear: Gum and an extra electronics charger for brownie points, getting you one step closer to the “Parent of the Year” award.

These are the years Andrew and I call “The Golden Years.”  Generally, kids of this age still like you and still show you affection and rely on your old, wise self for some sage advice.  Hormones haven’t kicked in yet, but they are fully self -sufficient in terms of being able to do the basics- hygeine, dressing them selves, and because you just cannot phychiatrically handle one more pair of accidentally pooped-in underwear, they are finally fully potty trained and you don’t ever hear them calling “I’m done!” from the bathroom, which we all know translates to “since you haven’t done enough for me already today, I’m now ready for you to come wipe my ass- literally.” 

I personally believe God specifically designed this little span of years to follow straight after the toddler years for a reason.  It’s like one’s trophy for surviving the physically taxing, sometimes life- sucking toddler years. Almost like that part in a race where you’ve just had it: you’ve hit the proverbial wall- you’re bored, exhausted, hungry, your ass is literally chafing because you neglected to slap enough butt balm on your crevaces, and you’re cursing yourself for ever signing up for this damn race in the first place. You ache from head to toe-even the hairs inside your nostrils hurt.  And then- you stagger around the corner only to find you’ve reached another mile marker.  Suddenly you hear the “Hallelujah Chorus” bursting from the heavens at maximum volume as your eyes fall upon the water stop on either side of the race course. Beautiful, smiling, winged angels have set down their harps in order that they may bestow unto you Dixie cups of water and tubes of Energy Gel.

Traveling by plane with kids in the Golden Years is nothing short of amazing.  Partially because the assault of the toddler years is still fresh in one’s mind, so we appreciate it more. They order their own beverage, consume it without spilling it, and by now they are capable of saying “please” and “thank you” to the flight attendants without being prompted.  Most of the time, they can operate their own electronics, and by this time they have learned that they’re expected to pack for themselves- at least in our household.  (Here’s how we define the ability to pack for oneself in the A-Team house- a simple pre-requisite: “Are you capable of cleaning your own teeth and genitals?  Great, you meet the necessary criteria to pack for yourself!  Here’s a list and a suitcase.  Go with God.”)

One note on the "packing for yourself” concept during the Golden Years: Kids at this age are learning that you are no longer coddling them and carrying their 16 Barbie dolls, stuffed animal pig, Superman cape, 48 piece set of Thomas the Tank Engine railroad tracks complete with every single train car those British chaps ever made-PLUS their puffy coat and Snorkel set stuffed in your purse.  As you can imagine, this comes with a learning curve and there WILL BE a few trips where you get to your destination and open the child’s suitcase only to discover the child has given zero F’s and completely ignored your well-thought out list.  No. Instead, they have packed all of the items they consider to be “essentials” and practically none of the things you consider to be “essentials.”  I’ll use a personal example from one of A-Team kids’ (who shall remain nameless) in hopes of preparing you for your own experience.  We arrived at our hotel once in 30-degree weather and this particular child opened their suitcase. Inside was a swimsuit, 3 pairs of flip-flops, a yearbook, and a plastic recorder from their fourth-grade music class.  That’s it.  No coat.  No PJ’s.  No underwear. No toothbrush.  Now, here comes the hard part: Like Elsa from “Frozen”, you have to let it go. 

Let me clarify: I’m not suggesting you let a child run around in 30-degree weather in flip-flops and a swimsuit, but what I am saying is: you may be a little put out for a couple of trips while they are learning to pack for themselves.  You may have to make room for a small stash of their stuff in your suitcase, or be willing to make an emergency run to the store for a trip or two while they are learning.  That way, when they arrive on the trip with no underwear, you can head into negotiations with the child and decide what a clean pair of underwear is worth to them.  Here are a few trades that can benefit the parent: You’ll cough up the under wear, and the child gets to be the “housekeeper” for the hotel room each day in exchange for the skivvies. (Yes!  I endorse child labor!… simply for the purpose of helping the kid become responsible for their own stuff, ok? I hope it goes without saying I that I’m not suggesting sending a child who forgets their items is destined to be put to work in a sweatshop for the duration of the trip, mmmkaay?.)

Note the language used there: “the child gets to”. You have to frame this in a positive light, are you feelin’ me?  So the child understands that you took up a few valuable inches of space in your suitcase to provide some emergency items for them when you really didn’t have to.  Or maybe you made a trip to Target for an hour when you could have been otherwise poolside. In either case, the kid learns on a small scale that forgetting an essential item will generally cost them something, just like it would in the real world. As a parent, your “get to” can be an advantage for you.  Just something small, so they get the point, and you get a little bonus: Maybe you offer the underwear in exchange for the child making you a coffee in the morning or getting ice from the ice machine at the end of the day… whatever it is, it can benefit you. It’s not selfish, in my opinion- it’s actually taught our kids to be more mindful of both caring for themselves and being respectful of others.  In most cases, they seem to be able to connect the idea that there are natural consequences, and the world doesn’t revolve around them.

Remember: 

This whole idea is your classic “Love and Logic” approach to parenting.  It’s the concept of the law of natural consequences.  Trust old A-Team-Mom, it’s a small investment for the future.  Don’t forget that the eventual goal is adulthood.

Sanity Savers (AKA “Relationship Savers”) for Flying with the 13+Crowd:

Travel Gear: A Willingness to Talk on their Timeline. Parent practices MYOB by Getting Own Life. OH! AND a major Credit Card. (Almost forgot!)

OK this is where the shift occurs, seemingly without warning.  One day they are snuggling up next to you talking about how their friend blue-flamed with the Bunsen Burner in the middle of the science experiment. And then in the blink of an eye, It’s like you find yourself in an episode of “The Twilight Zone” and your kind, sweet, kid has been swapped out for a hormonal, moody one who reminds me of my own behavior at about 9 months pregnant when I can’t waddle in and out of the bathroom fast enough to wash my hands before I have to return again. Suddenly, flying becomes a very independent experience. Most of the time teens have smartphones by this point, so once you see air buds or headphones come out, that’s the signal that you’ve arrived at the phase where you are definitely no longer needed to entertain them.  But be assured that when the food cart rolls down the aisle and they need a credit card, they’ll be suddenly be looking to become dependent once again. ;) 

I know those of you still in the “flying with toddlers” phase are basically in disbelief that this ever really happens, and you pretty much think “independent” offspring are about as legit as Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. But you truly do get to this phase- and then shockingly, you kind of miss when they were little and adored you and needed you.  (Well, let’s be clear: you DON’T necessarily miss flying with them when they were little.)

Real talk: this is hard to hear and hard to remember, but since you get to do you, now that they are teens, you CAN lovingly let them be them.  I try to have my own life, outside of my kids, because I have learned from my own experience how important it is for my mental health, and also because I’ve been told by my teens that they appreciate that about me.  They tell me about what it’s like for the kids whose parents are constantly living vicariously through their child or riding their ass like Zoro about any variety of things that in many cases are none of the parent’s business at this point, in my opinion.  It’s your classic example of what I like to call “The Expired Helicopter Parent.” (And hey: I’m not judging. I coined that phrase because I was one of those, once upon a time.) It didn’t work out for me too well, so I had to try another approach.

For example, here’s how that looks when I’m on a plane: I’m a voracious reader, I write on planes, and I enjoy the magical hours of time that no one on the ground can contact me. With my teens, I lean into the gift of the physical presence of sitting next to my kid, who has their own life too.  Usually, we chat a little bit during takeoff and landing or while consuming drinks and snacks, but that’s about it.  Sometimes we do need to catch up, which we do use the time for if needed.  However, mostly it’s just wordless, un-awkward time together.  One of my goals personally as a mom is to teach my kids how to relax and detach from stress.  If that means letting them binge-watching Netflix downloads or getting some homework done that they may be missing on the trip, then I say yay for them.  The last thing either of us wants is a loudmouth mom yammering on, disrupting the serenity of noise-cancelling headphones.  Just because we parents have a captive audience does not give us a license to go launching into a long-winded monologue regarding the 74 thousand things we want to lecture them about when the teen is stuck- literally seatbelted in next to us at 32,000 feet. 

One thing to note in general, regarding communication with my teens, I’ve realized I have to sort of be on call.  They want to talk on THEIR timeline, not mine. Andrew and I try to be intentional about scheduling deliberate weekly time with our teens. Spoiler alert: I’ve learned we can’t always “force” quality time to happen when it’s convenient for us-shocking, I know! ;). Teens are often more like being in a holding pattern or a maintenance delay on an airplane. It can be emotionally challenging to be patient, but it’s worth the wait. The deepest, most heart warning, authentic conversations I have had with my teens are the ones that happen organically, which is often late at night when Andrew is passed out next to me and I’m barely hanging onto consciousness myself.  It’s when *they* feel like talking, and *what* they feel like talking about.  Think back to the old days when they were babies and recall how their cry would wake you from the deepest REM cycle in 2 seconds? Remember how you could almost set a clock to the incredible timing of how such a tiny baby seemingly comes out wired to start crying on cue just as you sit down to eat dinner, turn on the shower, or grab a quiet or intimate moment with your spouse? Same principle here. I can do a million things to intentionally try to connect with them, but the most valuable thing I can do is be available when they’re ready to talk.

Just as those babies seem to come out wired in a particular way, I believe something happened to me after their placentas were delivered- like a sudden software update which programmed me to want to fix everything for those babies.  It’s like, “Welcome to the World! Now, let’s cut the crap and get down to business. Are you hungry? Tired? Have a dirty diaper? Uncomfortable in that ugly-ass terry cloth sleeper from your great Aunt Bertha? Cold? Hot? Let me fix it!” Obviously, this is necessary and natural. And so begins the instinctual journey of wanting to do everything for the child, which is great- until they are old enough to begin to learn to do things for themselves.  As the child matures and changes the dance, it’s *ahem*, sometimes challenging for us parents to evolve along with the child. (Anyone? Anyone? Beuller?) When I see the signs of the dance changing, I’ve realized the best thing I can do is stage an intervention on myself and chill out. I get to stop and watch the child for awhile and let them show me their new dance moves. If I keep doing the old retro throwback vintage steps when the child is doing new ones, I’m immediately out of sync and both of us become frustrated.  When both people try to lead at the same time, the dance doesn’t flow as well.

Keep in mind, I said it above and I personally need the continual reminders that the ultimate goal is to raise an *adult*!  It’s bittersweet when they don’t need us anymore, of course!  But if I want to keep on doing everything for my more-than-capable kids to help me feel validated, that’s my own issue and not theirs. My teens know I’m there and available if they want to chat.  And if they don’t feel like it, I don’t push it, and I don’t take it personally. (Anymore…I’ve learned from some past experiences.) We respect and love each other together by doing life together if that makes sense. This is my current method of operation with my teens both on planes, and in home life.  So far, it’s served me well. But who knows, it could change at any time!  I will just keep watching the dance and try and follow it to the best of my ability.

Remember:

I want to be the person who my kids want to get on a plane and fly home to see later in life.  Not the person they feel obligated to visit. So, I try to choose behavior today which sows a seed toward that greater goal.

Final Words Before Departure and Crosscheck:

Equipment: 

It’s fair to say I’ve probably purchased most travel gadgets known to man, and definitely every item from the “Sky Mall” Magazine at least once.  I’ve had a graveyard of travel gizmos and junk that didn’t work for me that eventually ended up on the shelves of the Bellevue Goodwill. It’s been the “same book, different cover” with baby gear. In fact, once upon a time, we actually ordered a dumpster and had it delivered to our driveway after we had completed the “baby stage” with our first four kids.  Apologies to my environmentally conscious friends and those who are appalled by this because I could have driven the stuff to a local recycling center but look, sorry, not sorry people: I was about on the edge of a nervous breakdown and you gotta do what you gotta do, so don’t judge. #TrueConfession time: We opened the window of the upstairs playroom in our old home and just started hurling things over the windowsill and into the dumpster below as if the entire place was on fire. (Actually, it probably would have been easier to set the whole house aflame and walk away.) Scads of broken toys, old kids’ books with torn covers, stained maternity clothes which were so stubborn no amount of stain remover would ever convince them otherwise, mismatched parts of breast pumps whose motors literally burned out from so much use (I produced so much milk I could have breastfed an entire African village in addition to my actual babies). Apologies. I digress.  The point is, a business doesn’t do very well when regular inventory isn’t taken, or if there’s a failure to adjust to the constantly changing levels of supply and demand. We would be wise to continually re-evaluate which stuff we truly need onboard with us as our kids’ needs and abilities change. 

First Officer:

Don’t underestimate the importance of your partner.  When flights are overbooked, my husband has given up his seat for a paying customer and flown in the jumpseat countless times.  One thing he’s observed is when either the Captain or the First Officer leaves the cockpit, the remaining pilot in the flight deck must wear an oxygen mask during the absence of their partner.  I could write a whole separate blog on that, but basically, I believe if you’ve been lucky enough to have a partner who is by your side and committed to parenting with you, I personally think you’re blessed beyond measure. Because I’m friends with some single parents, I have heard how difficult it can be when they’re exhausted and have had their energy depleted; there is no one to tag team with when they are ready to tap out. No one to bounce ideas and situations off of, no one to pass the baton to at the end of their leg of the race so they can catch their breath.  It’s worth considering how to nurture that partnership in parenting; whatever that looks like for you.

Likewise in the cabin, the person who completes the “crosscheck” ensures that the Flight Attendant who was assigned a task has actually completed it; it’s just a second set of eyes to double check.  It’s having your partner’s back, for the welfare of the collective group of passengers. It’s having a teammate who you can trust implicitly to help you out. And here’s a shocker: you don’t have to see totally eye to eye on every single parenting detail to have each other’s back. Andrew and I parent fairly differently, although we’re totally aligned on what we consider to be key issues.  Here’s the important part: Even if I disagree with him, or I personally would handle a situation differently, it doesn’t matter; it doesn’t change the fact that He’s my ride or die- and I would never roll him under the bus in front of our passengers. (Although we might have a summit in private and negotiate amongst the two of us.) In front of the kids, we’re a united front: I support him and his decisions 100%, end of story.  My kids know it too. They don’t ever try to pin us against each other, or even ask for as much as a dollar bill from one parent if the other has already said “no.”  Andrew’s been my best friend for 20 years now; I hope to grow old with him, and there’s no way in hell am I going to sell him out to a 5-year-old who once plagued me with sciatica for 9 months in utero. 

At the end of the day, it’s just the ability to rely on each other’s strengths where we fall short. For instance, everyone who knows us well is aware that Andrew is our resident puke attendant.  You come to me with a queasy stomach and I literally run the other way and curl up in a corner with a face mask, Clorox wipes and a HazMat suit, in the fetal position while gagging from the mere power of suggestion. BUT, if you have a broken bone(s)/snot/blood/late night ER visits/need chicken soup or Gatorade/need a casserole? Well then it's time to rally, and I’m your girl. So we have each other’s back no matter what- it’s called A Loyalty Program- and it has some seriously sweet rewards. 

Navigation:

I assure you, as you continue down the path, you’ll naturally find your way and get into the rhythm of what works for you. Throughout the pilgrimage, you have every right to ditch the ideals and travel gear that you discover doesn’t serve you well and holds you back.  This way you naturally make room for ideals and travel gear that do. It’s normal to have challenges along the way.  But the incredible part is, you’ll never be the same.  It makes you richer in ways you never thought possible.  It takes you places you never thought you’d go- mentally, physically, and emotionally.  Your perspective broadens, your mind opens, and you’re undeniably changed forever by what you experience and by the love you never knew you were capable of.

Remember:

Maybe you, too, have seen some parallels between traveling and parenting.
Unless it’s truly a National Lampoon-style vacation from hell, or you’re legitimately trying to raise Freddy Kruger, you generally never regret it. Happy trails, my fellow travelers. 

See You In the Skies,
XOXO,
A -Team-Mom