Travelling solo with children is hard. Not impossible, but definitely *up there* in the realm of things you don't wanna undertake too often, lest you lose your mind. And travelling with my babes, who are BEYOND excited (nay, jumping out of their skin in jubilation!) on the fourth day of my not-smoking-ness could well have been a disaster of the epic variety. My nerves were frayed. (That should read 'fucking frayed' for emphasis, but I'm trying to maintain a teensy modicum of decorum. (Hows that workin' for me?) Anyhow - I didn't have my crutch, which is both physical and emotional, and it felt like a pretty big loss. Consequently, I was wobbly, jumpy (jumpier than usual, that is), more sensitive (read: likely to cry at any moment without warning) and more reactive to stress. Yes. Yes indeedy. A perfect day for air travel with small fry!
Anyhow - the babes did pretty good. We got stuck in unreasonably long line-ups (middle finger shout out to Air Canada) and braved security. Boy-O's carry-on was selected for 'special screening,' which caused great amounts of anxiety about the stuffed puppy nestled within. Girlio had the requisite I-haven't-had-my-nap-today meltdown.
And somehow, we made it through and on board, Boy-o's nervous chatter a constant juxtaposition to his sister's quiet watchfulness.
This day's angel came in the form of a rough and tumble diamond miner, who, when seated next to my son, listened to Boy-o regale him with endless questions, stories and general interruptions of the verbal variety. Like his mama, my boy is, um, verbose. Very. Possibly extremely. my G.A., he didn't bat an eyelash when boy-o talked of his trip to visit his lesbian grammas. He didn't flinch when boyo talked about his divorced queer parents. He didn't roll his eyes at one single question, query or interruption (and oh man, there were many) on the two hour long flight.
And that's just for starters. Whewf. I'm exhausted just writing it all down.
Being seated on a small plane that only has two seats per side, I was worried about travelling as a threesome. I needn't have, as my patient guardian angel shared his iPad with my boy and they watched movies together (punctuated by several questions).
There is good in the world. It's always nice to be reminded.
A guardian angle of another sort came down the aisle and sold me overpriced cheap red wine.
I loved him, too. Just differently.