Leaving. On a jet plane. Our adventure to Iowa, Part 1

So about two months ago my Mom called and asked if there was any way I could fly back to Iowa with both the kids before the summer was over. Chris was busy at work, and the only way I could get back before Fall would be to make the trip just me and the bambinos. And I clearly remember the day she asked, because it was following one of those weeks where I felt like I couldn’t even successfully transport my kids from the front door to the car without a major catastrophe. And my response to my Mom was all, Um. NO! Flying by myself with two kids across the country sounds more painful than pushing another nearly-ten pound baby out of my body. Thanks, but no thanks.

But then I had three successful days of parenting in a row, and when my Mom brought it up again, I didn’t make gagging noises or pretend like someone was stabbing me, so she gently offered a few words of encouragement and then told me, You know, Brooke. I totally flew by myself with you kids when you were six, Libba was three and Will was only four months old. If I can do it with three, you can totally do it with two. And since I’m apparently a masochist and up for a challenge, I replied, Well... OKAY! Let’s do this.

So leading up to our big plane ride, I started telling Taylor all about the fabulous trip we were going to take to her Papa and Yaya’s farm in Iowa, and how we would get to ride in an airplane to get there. And how, just as a super special treat, she would get to chew bubblegum in the plane. And, y’all, she was so excited her head almost popped off. Papa and Yaya! Farm! Airplane! GUM! There was enough anticipation surging through her three year old body that on the morning of the big trip she came running into our room squealing, Today? TODAY? Do I get to go on the plane to Yaya’s farm today?

And after Chris helped us check our bags, gave me a pep talk and watched as I navigated through airport security without any real hiccups, we preboarded the plane and I got all settled in for our first flight to Detroit. The portable-DVD player was charged and ready to play Cinderella, Luke was comfortably snoozing in the Ergo and I lined the backs of the seats in front of us with coloring books, snacks and, of course, the bubblegum Taylor had picked out at the grocery store a few days before: Strawberry Shortcake flavored Extra-brand gum.

And while hyping the whole You-can-chew-gum angle definitely helped get her excited for the flight, we really should have PRACTICED chewing it. Which I didn’t even think about – Because she swallowed eight – EIGHT! – sticks of the sugary goodness before they even shut the cabin doors. And each time she crammed a new piece in her mouth, I would lock eyes with her and say, Now, Honey, DON’T SWALLOW IT! Chew it! Like this. And I would smack my mouth open and closed so dramatically that my cheeks started to cramp. And she would chew hers too, until I would get distracted and look the other way. And then she’d look at me and say, I need another piece, Mama.

So needless to say, after we landed in Detroit, wiggled our way out of the plane, got out into the concourse and she looked at me and whined, My belly hurts, I need to go potty! I grabbed her hand and we sprinted to the nearest family bathroom, which allowed plenty of room for me to help her get onto the toilet while balancing my 20-pound infant in the carrier in front of me. And as if that wasn’t enough of a fiasco, the toilet-flushing sensors kept failing to pick up Taylor’s little body on the potty and kept automatically flushing at super-sonic force while she was trying to get rid of her bubblegum-gut rot, causing her to shriek and scream and jump off the seat with each flush. It was an absolute dumpster fire.

And once we settled that situation with a $5 Pepto tab bought at the airport newstand, found our gate and got our seat-assignment readjusted, I called my Mom and said, So I know you’re running a few errands in Omaha before you pick us up, so can you please get me a giant beer and have it waiting in the car? Because Mama needs a drink! And her response was, Do you want me to bring it into the airport so you can have it right when you get off the plane? And I was all, That might be a bit overboard. I think I’ll be able to wait until we get into the car. Maybe.

But our flight from Detroit to Omaha was actually quite lovely, in that both kids simultaneously snoozed for about an hour, allowing me to stop sweating for a bit, quietly munch some airplane pretzels and pick out my holiday wish list in the Sky Mall magazine. And then we landed, found my Mom waiting for us, got our luggage and got in the car to make our two-hour drive to the farm. And, as promised, I was able to stop and get an enormous can of Bud Light in Harlan to sip on the way back home. Yeah, who am I kidding? I drank that beer so fast. You would have been impressed.

And then we arrived at the farm. And thus began an awesome, fun-filled vacation filled with lots of quality time spent with family, friends and the place where I grew up. And I shall tell you all about it. Stay tuned.