We are at it again….travelling….with our children.  As with all things pertaining to life, it is never without its twist and turns.  Below are my thoughts at several thousand feet as we are en route to Barcelona.

Two and a half hours into our flight, and I am patting myself on the back. I’m marveling at the fact that my 4-year-old son has fallen asleep almost immediately and without tears from either one of us.  You might think I exaggerate but when your one year old cries during a full 7 hour flight to South America, traveling becomes an emotional roller coaster.

You know how “they” say, don’t count your chickens before they hatch?   Yeah. That. All.  Day.  Long. Don’t. Count. Your. Chickens.

That is exactly what happened. I patted myself on the back and at 4.5 hours into the flight, the most belligerent, angry, cranky, not fully awake 4-year-old reared his ugly head. To say that I even know what happened or the cause of this reaction would give me too much credit as a parent.  I could guess that he was overly tired, that the melatonin drops backfired and had an adverse effect, that waking up on a plane after only two hours of sleep was just too much.  Really the reason at this point does not matter, I have a possessed child, the likes of the poltergeist, on my hands.

I tried everything. Shhing, bribing, holding, new pillows, water. Nothing worked. And then he tricked me. He pretended to settle down and fall asleep only to pick up the crazy act all over again. I’m starting to realize why my mom offered to meet me in Mexico this summer when I travel alone with the kids to visit her in Peru. Who knows if we’ll survive.

With another 4 hours of flight time to go, I pulled him out of his seat and took him to the bathroom. Truth be told, where else would I go?  And my I clung to the desperate hope that the bathroom would provide some sort of sound proofing should he begin screaming at a higher, glass cracking pitch. We drank some water, looked at ourselves in the mirror and calmly discussed that there is no screaming or belligerent crying on airplanes. And just like that, the switch turned off.

But nothing is ever quite as easy as it seems. When we got back to our seats, my 40 lb child insisted on sleeping on me. Pretend I’m a mattress and you’ll get the idea. And as he finally drifted off to sleep, you could hear him singing

I’m useless but not for long
The future is coming on
It’s coming on
It’s coming on
It’s coming on

So what if he sang himself to sleep to “Clint Eastwood” by the Gorrillaz? What can I say, if nothing else his antics provide great content.

In case you missed the barrage of images and videos that I posted to Instagram today, be sure to click here to see what it’s like to travel with kids.