I Think Parents Traveling with Children Should Get Complimentary Alcohol on Airplanes

Sigh.

I'm tired. I'm stressed. I'm on edge.

Can you guess what I'm doing today?

Flying. With toddlers.

My mind is flooded with images of luggage falling all over the place, the kids screaming and wiggling to get out of their strollers, angry looks from annoyed strangers, and TSA who want to basically molest me in their effort to keep our skies safer.

Will I make it through today?

To top it off, I have been dealing with some weird body temperature issues this past week. I have been so freaking hot for no reason. It doesn't matter where we are, or what I'm doing. It just comes and goes without warning, and it immediately causes me to break out into a sweat. 

I hate being hot. HATE IT. 

I don't look good when I'm hot. I get shiny and puffy, and it makes me really cranky. So now I keep wondering if I am going to have a hot flash at the airport, while carting around luggage and children, and I will be dripping with sweat and snapping at the slightest things, all because my internal barometer is reading 9500 freaking degrees.

Because of all these issues, I have been going into our bedroom every five minutes to announce to Richard that I have a new "battle plan" for tomorrow. God love him, he is one patient man. He listens quietly and nods his head yes, even though he has heard my detailed strategy a million times already, and every time I go over it again I can see his stress level rising. He's scared too. But he's being the strong one. 

I don't know what's wrong with me, but I just can't shut up. I hear myself talking, and in my head I'm like, KELLYN STOP TALKING YOU SOUND LIKE A CRAZY PERSON. But I can't. I just can't stop. 

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Oh, and baby? I was thinking maybe I could drive to the airport tomorrow. I know I am going to be on edge and stressed to begin with, and sometimes when I am stressed I have a tendency to get stressed out even more by your driving, so I think this would be a way for us to avoid an unnecessary conflict.

What? You think I'm a bad driver?

No, no no. You're missing the point. Just say you'll let me drive.

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He even watched the boys today so I could run to Old Navy. I was on a mission to find a "flying outfit". I would prefer to wear my new favorite Seven jeans, (that I bought at 40% off OMG!), but the thing that makes them so cute - the fact that they are adorned with gemstones - is exactly why I cannot wear them. They would set off every alarm, bell and whistle that airport security has in place. 

Next thing you know I would be taken to some back room, stripped from the waist down as the TSA ran my jeans through an X-Ray machine, and interrogated me about that trip I took to Mexico five years ago, and Richard would be on the other side of the door, with two hungry, screaming, poopy toddlers, yelling at me about why in God's name did I wear bedazzled pants to the airport?!

So as you can imagine, I was hoping to avoid all that. 

I went in search of some stretchy, comfy pants with no buttons, metal, zippers, nothing. I eventually found some yoga-type pants, and while not particularly cute, they will do the job. 

So this is where we're at. T-minus 20 hours until our plane leaves the ground that I so enjoy having my feet firmly planted on. But I am already too stressed about traveling with kids as it is, that I'm not even going to allow myself to start worrying about the plane crashing. I just can't. This week has already caused  me more than enough gray hairs, I'm sure.

Bottom line? Traveling with little kids SUCKS. There's no way around it. Richard was all, "Let's just drive to Illinois".

HA.

I told him he better hop off the crazy train because that would never be happening. 

A twenty-plus hour car ride, through the snow, and over several mountain passes with a one and two year old? No thanks. 

I guess I will settle for outrageous baggage fees, let a TSA employee get to second-base with me, and then spend three hours in a compact fuselage, squeezed so close to the stranger next to me that our elbows and knees keep awkwardly rubbing together.

I don't mean to sound like a Scrooge. I was stressed last year too, and once we got to Illinois we all had the best trip with Richard's extended family in a beautiful white Christmas. I am looking forward to another fun and memorable year. 

But this whole traveling process? Has turned me into a raving lunatic.

Merry Christmas, everyone!