A Lesson In Flying

I am not a big fan of flying, I do it because I have to.  I would prefer a good road trip...the perfect mixed cd (well I guess all you need these days is an iPod) and an ice chest full of snacks, that spells FUN to me.  Flying is stressful, usually I can pass the time reading, taking a little nap, watching a movie, and before you know it the flight is over.  But with kids...it's a whole other story.  It is hard enough to shove me in those little seats, do it with a giant 20 pound baby and you are asking for a back-ache and a head-ache.  Our trip to Utah and back was eventful, to say the least.  There was screaming, crying and tantrums (and that was mostly just Jason, ha ha).  

Harry was perfect, smiling at anyone who would give him the time of day...just a happy baby.  He did not cry, just slept and ate.  The only thing difficult about Harry is that he is 20lbs of dead weight, my arms were so sore.  Clark, on the other hand, was possessed by the devil as soon as the plane left the tarmac.  I have never seen him act the way he did...saying he threw a tantrum is like saying a hurricane is a little drizzle of rain.  It was the longest flight ever...but it was worth it to go home for Christmas (and the wedding).

To say we were dreading the flight home is an understatement.  When were were at the gate waiting to board, Clark figured out what was going on.  He lost it.  He was so sacred, crying, screaming, trying to run away.  Poor, poor Tuna.  Jason and I were unable to sit next to each other, but I could hear him screaming from 15 rows away.  Once we landed in LA, to switch planes, Clark had had it with Jason.  So I had to carrying him, along with the fatty baby, to the next terminal.  There I was lugging 50lbs of babies, my pants were falling down, I was dehydrated and starving...practically in tears.  I was wishing so bad we still lived in California, then we would already be home (or better yet, we could've driven home!!)  We finally made it to the gate.  Clark's spirits were renewed with a bag of M&M's, and Jason went to get us some food.  We had a good 45 minutes until our next flight to relax.  Imagine my terror when I realized that I left Harry's bottle on the last plane.  I had his formula and water, but I left his bottle.  I had nothing to feed him with.  They don't sell bottles at the airport...you can get diapers, condoms, mustard, sewing kits, and ridiculously priced nuts...but no bottles.  We didn't know what to do.  I was literally having a panic attack, I felt horrible knowing what was to come.  Harry is the best baby ever, he never cries EVER, unless he is hungry.  We got on the plane anyways...I was planning on trying to get Harry to some how drink his milk out of Clark's sippy cup.  Thirty minutes into the flight, Jason found a family that had a little kid, and luckily they had an extra bottle...Thank GOD!  I have never been so relieved in all of my life...I love that lady where ever she is, LOVE her.  

So in conclusion, when the flight attendant tells you to check the seat pocket in front of you for personal belongings, DO IT!

We are home.  We are happy.  In fact, Clark was thrilled to be back home with all of his things.  I know he misses everyone, playing with his cousins and family, but he loved being back home.  I am finally caught up on everything, and I finished my last load of laundry last night (woot!)

I am definitely not looking forward to getting on a plane with Clark anytime soon (it is a good thing we still have about 18 months living here).