Friday, May 10, 2013

The Airport

Kids at the airport. I could probably just stop there, because I'm sure you're already thinking what I'm thinking. But you know me, I'm not going to stop there. Let us keep commiserating together about our experiences with kids at the airport.
Now, I'm not even talking about flying with kids. I've done it, flown by myself with the munchkins, trying to keep them strapped in the stroller until the exact right moment, then hauling you, them, and all their stuff down the gangway, attempting to keep them somewhat muffled during the flight and hoping beyond hope that no bodily fluids make it into the rows in front of or behind you, and then the bathroom on the airplane stops working before you're even in the air, and, like the comedian Brian Regan says, there's apparently only one tool in the known universe that can fix it and it's in Madagascar, so you drive around the runway at random for over an hour and the flight attendants can see your crew getting restless so they smuggle you extra pretzels and bottled water. When you finally land, the airline has lost your luggage, and as you wait in line to talk to them about it, one or more of your children poops their pants and sticks their hands in it. No, I'm not talking about that.
I'm taking about simply having your children at the airport. I did this recently. We were there to retrieve my sister, whose flight was delayed by a little while. Figuring it was better to go in and wait for her than sit in the parking lot watching the 50th rerun of Sesame Street's The Great Numbers Game, we made a break for it. No, of course I didn't have a stroller. Or snacks. Or even a tiny sippy cup to keep us entertained. That would have been far too responsible and/or prepared to be a good Sephonnie Elliss story.
We made it through the parking garage, down the elevator, and across the road into the actual building itself, the kids looking around and taking everything in with huge eyes as if this is their first time on Earth, and me repeating incessant instructions to stay together, hold hands, wait for your sister, no please don't pull her arm, and don't walk away where you can't see me. We enter the family bathroom stall to all relieve ourselves. This, of course, involves reverently touching the paper towel dispenser and upon learning that it does what every other automated dispenser in America does, doing the cancan in front of it so it begins emitting miles of white paper. And then we need to flip the light switch on and off as rapidly as possible, unlock the door, ask over and over if I can go outside and just wait by myself because I'm a big boy and no one will take me because I know karate, and also sing perhaps the ABCs and some favorite church hymns at the top of our lungs.
Once we're through with the bathroom, the running ensues. We run around around the luggage carousel (Mom! Is this like a slide??), run into the lost luggage office shouting Hi! Hi! (I'm sorry, no. My 15 month old does not need to file a complaint. Carry on, please.), run around the waiting area chairs (Felicity, try to catch me!!), run around the luggage carousel again (Mom! Now can we use it as a slide?!), run under the Caution! Restricted Area! tape that is cordoning off a broken carousel, and finally just nestle against its side because we've all decided we want to hide from Aunt Shanelle (who is the person we are there to pick up and who has yet to make an entrance). Except now actual baggage is starting to pop up and swim around on this thing that Mom said wasn't a slide, but look at those suitcases riding down it, and maybe Mom doesn't know what she's talking about. JJ reaches out her arms and pumps her little legs to try to catch hold of one and let it take her in circles and Judsen begins hollering because he's afraid she'll get hurt. But now that's boring and let's play tag again and hey! yay! there's Aunt Shanelle, but we haven't seen her for a while, so now all the running is coming to an end while Felicity dangles between my legs trying to act shy but also get Auntie's attention at the same time. Judsen is hiding his face in his arms, but continues to run around like he's some sort of jungle warrior who feels camouflaged because if he can't see us, then we definitely can't see him. And JJ remains oblivious to the arrival of one of her favorite people because darn it all if she's not going to catch one of those bags and have it take her for a spin before this night is over.
The point is, kids are awesome. Traveling with kids is awesome. Not traveling with kids is awesome. You're a mother, so now and forever anything you do with your children can be considered awesome. Right? :)

1 comment:

  1. Came here through a link on Jocelyn's FB post. Just have to say you are awesome. Thanks for the laughs. Good to know we're all insane together.

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