First Flight

I am pretty sure the Wright brothers weren't as anxious over their first flight as I was over Luke's. We had a late afternoon flight, which was our first mistake. In all the excitement of getting ready and packing and double checking our packing, Luke missed his afternoon nap. I had hoped that meant he would sleep on the flight...

It started off ok. He was totally engrossed in everything and everyone on the plane. He would crawl over me to look out the window, then he would crawl over me to get to Alex who had the SkyMall catalog, which is quite tasty apparently.

Take off was fine. He didn't fuss at all and actually fell asleep by the time we were able to move about the cabin. I thought we had it made. Figured he'd just sleep the entire way. Smooth sailing for us! Then after 25 minutes, he woke up. And he shouldn't have woken up and he knew that. He wanted to go back to sleep, but there was just too much to see. That's when the shouting started. Not crying. Not screaming. Just random shouting. He also refused to sit still, which was beyond fun. Somewhere over Colorado I believe, the clawing at our faces started. It was as though he wanted to claw out our eyeballs. Good times. And the shouting continued.
While there was no crying from Luke, I cried on three separate occasions. Not sobbing and not really even sad crying. It was the crying where the tears just fall and you can't do anything about it. They were a mix of tears of guilt for not making sure he got a nap. Guilt for not planning an earlier flight. Guilt over becoming "that parent on the plane that can't keep their kid under control"-I was always irritated with that person. Guilt over disowning him on three separate occasions and handing him over to Alex with that "you take him" tone. I don't think I have ever been so anxious and frustrated in my life- and for those who experienced my pregnancy with me, know that is saying a lot! I felt like I was going to die if I didn't get off that plane.

Landing, much like takeoff was fine. He was quiet and sat still, eyes fixated on the window. After barely surviving my personal hell and trying not to make eye contact with any of the other passengers, the people in front of us turned around and said "She was such a good baby!!" and went on and on about what a good baby we had and how well behaved he/she was. Then the people around us chimed in on how good he was. Two things about that shocked me 1. "She"!! Really? He has never been confused for a girl. He looks so boyish. And he had on his "Handsome like daddy" shirt...whatever. 2. "good"!!?? Seriously, were we on the same flight? Wasn't it the back of your chair he kicked for about an hour straight? Alex and I just stared at each other. It was like a Twilight Zone episode. I wanted to cry again over the guilt of disowning my child for behaving so "good". Are my standards too high? How will he ever survive childhood, let alone high school if I expect perfection? How much will his therapy bills cost me? So I increased my Zoloft dose in preparation for the flight home. Which by the way was fantastic! It was a morning flight. He slept for an hour and a half and then ate snacks and flirted with the girls behind us. He was indeed a wonderful traveler on the way home!