Leaving on a jet plane

I hope that whole "absence makes the heart grow fonder" bit is true... I've been so busy, you know, doing mom stuff, helping people move, being a good community member by maintaining a neat and tidy yard...

...and feeding the baby avocado with spaghetti sauce mixed in because my husband was "curious".

Or candy crush.  Probably just playing candy crush.  Thanks coworkers, for introducing me to the time suck known as responding to Facebook game requests.  It doesn't help that the 7-year-old knew what candy crush was before I did and when she noticed me playing she scoffed and said, "Level 20?  Wow.  Did you just start this morning or something?"  I can't back down from a challenge.  You understand, I'm sure.  My youngest child is probably going to believe she was raised by a strange rectangular silver entity with a white apple in the middle.

All that aside...I have been having frequent panic attacks at what is looming in the near future.

We're taking a vacation.

Not this kind.

That in itself is going to be unnerving.  I work, it's what I do, it's what I enjoy.  I would've been back to work after four weeks of maternity leave had my midwife approved it.

No, that's not all.  We're flying.  On a plane.  With three small children.

It's ok, I tell myself.  Pre-boarding is a godsend, right?  And with southwest airlines I don't need to freak out about getting seat assignments apart from my husband or my 7 or 2 year old.  We'll be great.  Right?

No.  No pre-boarding for families with small children.

Ok.  I breathe in.  I breathe out.  And my sassy inner voice reminds me that if some stranger wants to sit by my fussy and discontented toddler or my incessant chatterbox second grader (think I could talk someone into sitting by my husband too?), they can go right ahead.  I'll welcome the four hours of peace.  Especially since I have a phobia of flying.  Not flying really, more a phobia of being suspended thousands of feet in the air without a parachute within arms reach.

Seated apart on the way home from our honeymoon.  It was a nice, quiet flight.  For me.

Oh, and we're flying on the fourth of July.  So there will undoubtedly be plenty of fireworks being deployed below us.  This is the recipe for my inevitable mental breakdown.  I can't even self-medicate with Ativan or booze because I'm responsible for three.  small.  children.

My solution was simple: read other mom blogs about how THEY dealt with this kind of problem and follow suit.  Pinterest, to the rescue!  I spend days and days perusing through every kind of mom blog post imaginable regarding traveling with children.  Plenty of road trip suggestions (we've got that down pat however, with family living just across the border in Wisconsin) and a few flying suggestions...but most of them are a list of things you should be sure to pack.  Not a one of them discusses how to overcome your neuroses regarding air travel and how to put on a superman face in front of your babies.  No matter how loudly and how joviantly I exclaim, "This is SO much fun!" A will see right through my schemes and the fact that I'm trying to convince her of XYZ will instead have her believing ABC.

She'll uncover the truth.

She's contrary like that.

Every time I fly I look over at my husband and say, "We are NEVER doing this again."  You can see how well that's working out for me.

I can't stay away.  But can't afford the gas.  Next time I'll walk.

So instead, I throw my energy into over-preparing the carry-ons.  I get to bring a diaper bag for miss W, I'm making myself a new woven wrap complete with a homemade batik job (you'll see pictures, I promise) for toting her through the airport, A's American Girl doll is getting her own special seat that straps to the suitcase handle, we've got sandwich baggie snacks, movies and laptop/cell phone/iPad charging all strategically planned.  I might even make a schedule/plan for who does what with which child.  This is how I typically deal with my paralyzing fears.  I seize control over everything else and pray that it distracts me enough so that in-the-moment-freak-out might be a little more subdued than it could've been.

Besides, I've done this before.  I did it on my own with two of the kids.  We fly to Maine regularly to see family, and usually my other half prefers to stay home to make money.  This year, when the topic of the trip came up...well.  I can be proud of a great many things regarding my parenting practices, but handling three children in a time constrained and thousands-of-feet-in-the-air situation is not one of them. The options were: stay home, or all of us go.

He'll follow me anywhere.  But he never said he'd enjoy himself.

I guess what this all comes down to is:

Please friends.  Either suggest a great non-prescription anti-anxiety remedy, or if you see my face on primetime news because I lost my mind mid-flight, had to be restrained by the air marshall and I need bailing out, I promise I'll repay the favor someday.