WARNING: 18 and over only due to foul language
I have always been amazed by parents who choose to take their kids on vacation. Not just a, "Let's go for a drive!" kind of thing, but a real, honest to goodness, get on a plane with a young toddler kind of vacation. Just the thought of it gives me crippling anxiety.
Adam & Kimberly are FINALLY getting married this summer and it means everything to them that their friends & family are there. That means that I have to face my fears and step on a plane with Jackson & Tommy, fly across the country, and hope that no one has an epic meltdown. Since hearing of their engagement, I have been dreading this moment for many reasons. It's not that I don't want to go – seeing him get married will be one of the happiest moments of my life – but there is so many things that can and will go wrong.
First, the cost. Remember that post about us saving our money to keep our family finances in check? Well, flying a family of four from Reefside to Tampa Bay, Florida is bloody murder on the pocket book when only one parent works (that's Tommy). It would be the same as if we were paying on our SUV for another year. Having seen how hard my husband worked to get that sucker paid off, it killed me to put him back in the negative for plane tickets. We searched for cheaper flights, thought of all the possible ways to make it more affordable, made calls, did our research, but nothing panned out. It sucked. The only option we were left with was leaving the kids and the Hubs home and I would go alone. Knowing that this would be a huge disappointment to Adam, I called his Mom to see what would be the best way to let him know that the rest of the guests couldn't make it. His mother wasn't going to let that happen. Before I could even explain the issues, she said she would buy one of our tickets. To her, family is more important then saving a few $$$. She wouldn't dare tell of us leaving anyone behind or reaching in to our rainy day funds to get to the wedding, knowing all of the work that the Hubs put in keeping our family financially stable. She will never know how thankful we both are to have her help.
So, with the money situation figured out, now I have to deal with the fact that in a few short months, we will be traveling for half a day. I know, everyone does it. People head to Disneyland all the time, kid & husband in tow, without issue. However, they aren't traveling with Jackson.
What can go wrong? These are my fears.
1. Vomit. Jackson likes to vomit. All reasons are a good reason to vomit. Any parent of a vomitter (is that even a word?) knows what I'm talking about. In the face of any type of confrontation, my son will usually choose spewing the contents of his stomach in a wildly dramatic fashion instead of dealing like a normal child. Since discovering that he could get us to take him out of his crib by puking on everything (Thanks, CIO. You're a fucktard.), he has used puking as a way to control stressful situations. Kids are no idiots, and mine has reached ninja-level when it comes to creating a scene. I can't help but imagine us sitting on the plane, beginning the take off, and watching Jackson cover the rows ahead of us in a steaming pile of muffin and bile as we head in to the clouds. What would a person in my situation write on a card to warn other passengers (like the lady that passed out candy and earplugs)? "Dear flight partners, please take this poncho and tranqulizer as a thank you for not having me arrested when my child covers you in puke. I appreciate your cooperation and hope that none gets in your mouth. Much love, the frazzled parents of disgusting child in Row 22."
2. The questions. In a run of a day, I get asked at least 947 questions about anything and everything. My child has been in this house his entire life, yet they still feel the need to ask the same questions over and over again just to piss me off. "Why are the walls brown? Who bought the couch? Why is the sun right there? Where is the kitchen? Why do I have clothes on? Can I have a snack? Why do you poop? Where is my green thing? When is Daddy coming home? Can we buy a toy?" That shit never ends. I have become so use to making up total lies to the boring questions (because I can't help but mess with the little bastard) that I have to make an effort to give proper answers on the rare occasion that I actually get to talk to adults. Putting the kid in a new environment means the questions will be new and embarrassing. "Why is that man bald? Who farted? Why is that woman so big? Where do I go poop? Can I lick that? Why is my bum itchy? Why do the seats smell? Can I touch that person's hair? When do we land? Who burped?". I am use to it but lord help the poor bastards sitting around us. I may need to make more cards and get more drugs to pass around.
3. The meltdowns. So many meltdowns and so much time for them to happen! As already pointed out, bad things happen when my kid melts down. If I could predict them with any accuracy I wouldn't mind so much, but my kid can & will melt down for the most random reasons in record time. "The pillow touched my face!" Meltdown. "My chair is blue!" Meltdown. "I had a thought about a thing and now I can't remember the thing!" Meltdown. "That person looked at me!" Meltdown. All things have the potential to bring on a meltdown, which then brings on the vomit, which then brings on the pooping, which then brings on beginning of the end. We will be banned from ever using airlines again and will be forced to live in Billy's mansion for the rest of our days. I know, I know. Fuck me.
I could write a thousand more reasons why this trip is probably going to end with my family being the center of some buzzfeed list of the worst parents in Reefside, but I can't. Why? Because my son is currently attempting to eat a piece of chalk and a nickel at the same time. I need a drink.
Be kind, be caring, be kinky.