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............

A rainbow connection.

 
 
Any western household with children under the age of ten has them. Those 6oz multi-colored plastic cups from Ikea that cost $1.99 for half a dozen. All the colors of the rainbow and practically indestructible. With matching plates and bowls to complete the Swedish dining experience. In our house they live in a drawer where busy little hands can get easy access in an attempt to be more self-sufficient and not ask mum all the time for drinks. Last week I realized that our collection wouldn't fit in the drawer and need to be purged. Besides, our kids are 8 and almost 6, and they don't need special tableware any more. So into the trash went some little plastic cups, some with faded Disney designs, some with indistinguishable logos and several personalized ones without their handles.

Some parents find it hard to throw away artwork. Others hang onto children's clothes they can't bear to part with. Many cannot donate toys because they remember who bought them for their child and feel guilty about it. I keep some special artwork and toss the rest. I have no problem donating clothes to my favorite charity which gives them directly to local kids in need, and I am more than happy to purge my kids rooms of the clutter and junk that stops them seeing what they actually have. I find it much harder to take away the everyday visual reminders that I connect with memories of my kids growing before my eyes. When we finally re-sanded our kitchen table last year I was almost tearful as we eliminated the paint splodges that pudgy little hands had once gleefully put where they should not have been. That unexplained lump of something under the table (could be yoghurt, could be Weetabix) remained from the challenges of learning to use a spoon. And as I dropped the tatty cups with Thomas, Pooh Bear and the Little Einsteins into the trash, I certainly paused for a moment. Remembering how they smiled when we found these treasures in the $1 section at Target and had to hold them in the mini-van on the way home they were so excited.

I've written before about how we enter into different era's with our kids. (See my post 'Five Year Plan'). Right now I'm finding my self in the 'Parents need to be fully involved' era with my kindergartner and 2nd grader. My eldest is taking part in a local children's theater production and at the information meeting I was presented with a list of volunteer choices to help get the production running. Whilst silently yelling in my brain 'hey I'm paying for this why do I have to help' I scribbled a choice and hoped the sheet would get lost. Instead, I spent three hours last week in a basement studio sanding and painting scenery and actually having a really great time.

I turned up for duty in my painting gear. A 12-year old freebie t-shirt covered in a rainbow of paint colors and a pair of yoga pants in pretty much the same condition. (Stretchy waist bands always make it easier to paint!). The woman in charge of the scenery was wearing the same kind of outfit. She greeted me with a 'hey, you look really experienced' and smiled. About to reply in my usual self-deprecating fashion (I've-never-done-this-before-but-I-can't-sew-costumes-and-don't-want-to-sell-ice-cream-on-the-night) I stopped myself. 'I've done a fair amount of painting' I said, and off we went to basement-land under the theater.

In that moment, I realized that I was wearing my technicolor t-shirt of the last decade of my life. Sure, I wear it only once or twice a year when there's a mini-makeover needed in a part of our aging home. But there's so much to say about the colors that fell on to it when I mixed, rollered, touched-up and wiped my hands on each job.

The pale yellow held the mystery and expectancy of our our first child. Not knowing whether a boy or girl, we painted a sunny little room and filled it with jungle animals ready for their arrival. The pink and purple heralded her growth into preschooler and then Kindergartner as she left her baby days, and the lions and giraffes, behind her.

The lilac brightened a dreary old kitchen made bigger after a big renovation. I remember being nauseous whilst painting in the early days of my second pregnancy. The grey-ish blue took away the hand prints and crayon scars of early childhood when we repainted last year. Just in time for me to turn forty.

The three greens (lime, celery and emerald) belie the trickiness of painting the tiny downstairs bathroom. The most painted room in Boston, (as my friend Sarah calls it) is also responsible for pulled muscles and back aches when we twisted and maneuvered our brushes.

Gold made our living room warm. Heavily pregnant, I did what I could to help get the room finished and managed to huff and puff my way through the project. Two weeks later I sat dazed in the room after our daughter arrived early. Obviously she wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

Orange. The color that should never have been used in the bathroom. Ever.

The Egyptian pyramids, palm trees and River Nile that I painted on a backdrop for a journey through the story of Joseph for a church camp. One of the most fun, rewarding, and exhausting weeks of my life are present as sand, bright green and cool blue.

And there's many more colors with many more stories. But I won't throw that t-shirt away because it shows life in all it's glorious color. And if life with kids isn't colorful, then it's dull. And I certainly don't want it to be like that. There's no gray to be seen.