I am relatively well traveled.
Argentina to Australia.
Montgomery to Manhattan.
I lived abroad for a jaunt.
But NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING, prepares you for "kid travel."
Nothing prepares you for kids period.
That nine month incubation period is total bull shit.
It didn't do shit to prepare me for motherhood except make me want to live and die on McDonald's and Carvel.
And it showed.
My ever thoughtful mother, never missing a chance to remind me, that with each quarter pounder,I would NOT be giving birth to a toddler, but an infant, who most likely, would not weigh the additional 70 pounds I had added to my body with this newly found diet plan.
Same thing with college.
It doesn't do shit to prepare you for life.
Or maybe it does?
Actually it does, but not probably in the academic way they want it to.
I am not ashamed to leave my house in pajamas, for instance.
Anyways...
A few months back I took my kids to Chicago, aka the literal, MOTHERLAND, for my beloved grandmother's 101st birthday.
Planes, trains, and automobiles possess an entirely new meaning to me now.
It has literally taken me 3 months to even discuss this.
The trauma was real.
I would love to add, that for someone who started flying at like, 3 months old, I have now become the worst person to sit next to on a plane.
The goddamn snack cart coming down the aisle has me screaming, "this is the end!"
Let's pray!
My own beloved kids, that I had actively made sure they would be on the flight, watched me across the aisle during the flight, and laughed as I began a two hour love affair with the arm rest and a Bible.
Anyways, let me tell you about how the trip began...
Some luggage, and a few kids and me.
It all started with the trip to JFK, which was fast and uneventful.
That should have been a tip off of epic proportions.
Anyways.
Off we went to the self check in.
Scanned my ID.
And then, the computer asked me to produce my 9 year olds, license.
Out of all FOUR people, Delta decided my 9 year old needed to produce ID more than anyone else.
More specifically...
Her driver's license.
In case I have neglected to tell you, I may be the the worst parent ever, because I never taught my 9 year old to drive.
In fact, I am ashamed to admit she can't even pilot a bicycle.
Yes, lets make me feel like an even more epic failure as a parent.
Well guess what?!
Our asses got flagged, and now we were told to wait in a line.
For an hour and a half.
Standing, with 3 kids.
That was fun.
Not only did my legs hurt, but so did my ears, FROM ALL THE COMPLAINING.
Finally get to the front, and even the clerk has no idea what went wrong.
Calls corporate.
30 minutes later...
Problem fixed.
New boarding passes reissued, confidence in my decision to travel with my children, slightly restored.
Take the boarding passes, and said children to the TSA.
They scan everyone without issue, until they get to my, need to see your drivers license, non driving 9 year old.
Her pass will not scan.
I am told that I need to go back downstairs, and get new boarding passes.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Running on loop through my head at this point.
My already very pale Irish face drains.
Really?
My little one declares that since she has been the reoccurring problem, it would be ok if I left her at the airport, and went ahead without her.
Like in her mind, she would either be ok with living at the airport ala Tom Hanks via The Terminal, or she would thumb her way to O'Hare.
Being an only child, and having three, I am an absolute alien to sibling life.
But what I will say, is that I am pretty sure the other two would have been ok with that.
Leaving her to fend for herself, while they flew in the lap of luxury.
Well for fuck's sake, I said no way, and proceeded to drag them back down through security at a quite alarming, post 9/11 pace,cut the approximately 100 people in front of me, who were NOT happy about it, and said, I need new boarding passes.
Another 30 minutes, and new boarding passes reissued.
They were very helpful for a NYC airport I will admit.
So once again, I marched back up, right through security, much to the dismay of the police...but I explained myself, and all four of us were let back in line, and our passes ALL scanned.
Get to the gate, board plane, I freak out for 2 hours, my kids mock me me, we land.
Now this, this is what gets me every FUCKING time I land at O'Hare.
CHICAGO, for FUCK's SAKE, label your SHIT.
So we land, we catch our luggage like we had dined and dash, and we are off for that oh so amazing Corvette convertible I rented, oh wait, sorry, I meant cheapest economy car I can rent for 4 people.
Pretty much a motorized version of the red plastic car you need your legs to operate.
There is a train system that is designed to take you to this Wally World of rental cars, amongst other terminals.
If you can even find it.
I can't tell you how many elevator trips we took to find the right level to find the Goddamn tunnel to even find this God forsaken train.
Don't even let me tell you about the homecoming at 3am and the workers directions in Queens.
Ok, I will, but let me get to the rest of the story of how we GOT there first.
So we get there.
We find the car rental terminal after missing it twice.
Please judge.
Yeah, I thought so.
Now I have the pleasure of my son acting as my GPS.
I can honestly say this kid has his act together more than me on most days, but yet, when was told he needed water for ramen declared that was too much work, and quickly retreated.
I am also the same person who will drive either in a heightened panic (think Dion getting on the freeway)or think I am in the passengers seat in Amish country, along for the outing, conveniently forgetting I am commandeering our ship.
I will also add, my father drove like everyone could wait with his left blinker permanently on, while my mother thought she could best Mario Andretti while lighting her cigarette and changing CD's simultaneously.
YES ACTUAL CD'S.
Apparently, car makers felt that a six disc CD changer in a moving car would be awesome.
Who doesn't remember having that huge suitcase of cds in their front seat?!
And meanwhile we are worried about texting.
Anyways...
I currently can't even get my car to back down the driveway without taking out the garbage at the end of my driveway, AND I have a backup camera.
Short story long, you do the math with tweedle dee driving, and tweedle dum giving directions how well that was going to go.
Waukegan. (Had to insert tiny joke, love ya L!)
Ok, enough about that.
We get the rental, and after a few, "now whats" to my son (perhaps said in a much more heightened alarmed tone), we arrive safely at our hotel, and crash because the whole day has now taken its toll.
Actually, we all laid in bed and binge watched Naked and Afraid, which at the point was like watching my day through a looking glass.
Little did we know what would be in store for us upon our return.
Yes, I will let this one marinate.
Then I will release Part II.
A first!
A two parter?!
You are very welcome.
Xoxo,
C.
Comments