Happy. Glorious. Party time.

June 1977. A little girl with pigtails stands in a photograph with other neighborhood kids. Wearing a dress made of fabric so itchy that it could be used as an instrument of torture, sporting immaculately proportioned pigtails she holds a Union Jack flag. The dazed look on her face probably gave away the fact that she didn't really understand what was going on. Apart from the fact that there was no school that day, she was sitting in the lounge of a local public house (which was a departure from normal family life) and there were plates of sausage rolls, sandwiches, and fairy cakes as far as the eye could see.

It was the Queen's Silver Jubilee and I was that six year old party guest. My son is now the same age, turning six just as the Queen is about to celebrate her Diamond (60th) Jubilee next month. As the United Kingdom erupts in rivers of red, white and blue, it prepares to celebrate this incredible monarchical milestone (as well as the impending London Olympics). And I know that British ex-pats around the globe are looking longingly at their homeland and wishing that they could be there to enjoy the celebrations.

I know that, because I am one of those people. And because I'd love my children, born in the USA to British parents, to experience a total nation in celebration. It's not about monarchy versus democracy. It's not about birthright versus election. It's about celebrating a nation's culture and heritage, being proud of an unbreakable British spirit and acknowledging an amazing achievement by a remarkable woman.

As our children get older, they talk more about their dual nationality. Sometimes they say they feel totally English. When a child has poked fun at their strong English accents they'll retreat and say they feel more American. Our daughter will talk about studying at MIT. And when a care package arrives bearing Cadbury's treats we'll hear repeatedly that they want to move to England because the chocolate is better. Sam calls football 'soccer' because we're in America. And we're really okay with that. We've always told them that they can use British or American words and never influenced their choices to do so. What we want them to be in comfortable in their own skin, and to be able to 'bloom wherever are planted'. Whether that's on the east or west side of the Atlantic, we don't mind.
  
And now, I think I need to go and plan our own celebration of the Queen's jubilee in our own little corner of North America. Perhaps we won't be able to close the road and have a street party circa 1977 but I'm planning on hanging my bunting, breaking out the fine china and let my kids stuff themselves to the point of explosion on homemade British goodies. And not with an itchy item of clothing in sight......

Cross Check and prepare for take-off.

Last week I flew Transatlantic by myself with two kids (8 and 5) who were just so fun to travel with. Perhaps it's their general attitude, the fact that they actually enjoy flying and don't see it as a chore, or maybe it's that we've traveled this route from an early age with both of them. Whatever it was, I was truly proud of my kids as they entertained themselves for hour after hour without complaints, tantrums, or notable squabbles. Even connecting at the World's busiest airport for a quick flight to the North of England, they worked with me to get through the biometric and security checks, and dashed to our gate as the last call was made.


Boarding at the gate, all parents are all in the same boat; we are people who are flying with our kids. The playing field is level. We corporately coo at the little baby heading to meet their grandparents for the first time. We smile at the 'tweens going to London for their first time with their school group and devouring their guide books. And we ignore the toddlers who are sneaking through the legs of the Gate attendant and fire a gentle look at the parents that actually says 'I really hope that you are sitting right at the back of the aircraft where where I can not see, or more importantly, hear your child. (I was once that parent of that screaming-banshee toddler. She screamed for 6 hours and I melted in the angry glare of those 200-odd people as they left the aircraft on arrival).

As the flying marvel known as a Jumbo jet takes-off, and start to cruise, the parental camaraderie and 'happy to be on board' bubble is popped quicker than a toddler can undo their seat belt. What started out as a happy cabin full off traveling families soon becomes a social experiment that only a sadistic anthropologist could put together. Based on my fairly regular trips back and forth across the Pond, I'd love to share the most memorable family groups I've seen on my travels;

1. Baby's first flight.
Been there and done that. Parents have more equipment than the cabin crew have luggage. Stroller (oversized) and car seat (plus base) checked at the gate. Parents read every forum on traveling with their 3 month old and packed everything they usually need x4 for a 6-hour flight. Hence 24 diapers in the monster back pack plus 8lbs of wipes. The thing they didn't pack? A spare shirt for mom who ends up covered in baby spit. After an almost fist fight for the in-flight bassinet with the other new parents they never actually use it because they need to hold the baby the whole time in case they cry in flight. Baby, in fact, did sleep the entire way to London.

2. To hell with it.
Loud family of mostly boy children (at least 4). Dad even louder. Parents are very happy to fill their kids with caffeinated sugary drinks at airport and on board (yes, truly witnessed). Spend the whole time separating their kids from fighting and getting up and down to the bathroom. Oblivious to sleeping passengers and happily press on the backs of people's seats as they move down the aircraft. Louder than loud. Ruder than rude. Can anyone say 'ejector seat?'

3. Unclaimed 'tweens.
The school group got split up around the aircraft. Such freedom means an easy time for the chaperones (usually only Serbo-croat speaking). Hell for the other passengers. Shouting, seat-changing, and riotous behavior are the norm. Heaven help their host families.

4. Athletic toddlers
Did you know that the aisle of a jumbo jet is also a jungle gym? It's apparently okay to let sprinting 2 year olds run up and down on their own. It's not okay to reprimand a concerned flight attendant for carrying your child back to their seat after they've taken out the food cart in a flying leap. Airlines should supply free Benedryl with all in-flight activity packs. Forget the crayons.

5. We know the ropes.
This family knows how to get to the front of the boarding line and off the aircraft first. They travel with minimal luggage. Their kids are trained to maneuver around businessmen and their wheelie Samsonites on the concourse at lightning speed to get through immigration first. They are also the most likely family to get themselves upgraded.

6. The complaining family.
Another blanket. Another pillow. More drinks. Too cold. Too hot. Movie screen needs re-starting. They missed duty free. They missed dinner. The wine isn't cold. They need another immigration form. A constant ping-pinging of the call button, several conversations with the Cabin Service Director can't even make them happy. Results in a promise by a loud mother to never fly with this airline again. There is a God......

7. The sick family.
You don't even want to imagine........

Truthfully, I have seen them all. And I'm sure people have thought me rude as I utilise the pre-boarding privileges with kids and get them into the cockpit for a photo-op with the pilot. But I'm thankful for kids who travel well and without much hassle. The secret? Never underestimate the the power of a lollipop, a bag of sweets and a Nintendo DS.

Oh, and a couple of those cute little bottles of Pinot Grigio for mom............