Flying with a Toddler
I can't think of anything worse than flying with a hyperactive two year old... Besides maybe ebola. On Sunday we were all packed and ready to go. The taxi picked us up at 9 and bless the driver's heart, he was super awesome and patient as the Husband and I wrestled the Kid and tried to put the car seat in. Snapped in and some tears later, we were off and the Kid was babbling happily in the back. We got to the airport and the Kid did not want to transition from car seat to stroller so he held my hand and we entered the terminal. He luckily was pretty overwhelmed by all the people and probably a little ticked he wasn't getting any attention from the masses. Note to parents: Nobody thinks your kid is cute at the airport. Nobody.
Flying within Europe is unbelievably civilized so the Husband was able to drop off our baggage without the Kid and me which meant more walking and whining from the Kid. The great thing about the Vienna ariport is that they have a seperate security place for strollers and wheelchairs. Note to all airports, this is brilliant, for everybody!!! We got through security and made our way to our gate. So far so good and getting a little smug about our awesome little big boy in a backpack walking through the terminal. He found a vending machine and that kept him busy as we waited to board. When it was time to board, that is when the chaos happened. The Kid was not happy to be interrupted during his dumbass game of touching the vending machines. I held him in a death grip and we finally made it on. As we approached our seats, a group of men groaned when they saw we would be sitting behind them as they had witnessed his freak out in the terminal earlier. I ignored them and wished them all multiple children should they have kids in the future. The Kid was pretty good settling in. He called it an "Auto" but whatever.
We took off and he grimaced slightly but that wasn't too bad. After the initial excitement of taking off and the novelty of going at the speed of light wore off, he was pissed again. If he could form sentences he'd probably would have said "Why the hell am I stuck in this seat and why the hell can I not kick the seat repeatedly? Oh, and I hate you both." Before you think we flew unprepared I say shame on you. My purse could have beat the crap out of Mary Poppin's bag. I had Hot Wheels still in their packages, fruit bars, lollipops, action figures and oh how I wish I had baby Benadryl. We restrained the Kid until the no seatbelt sign turned off and then I yelled at the Husband "Take out the goddamn DVD player and put on Dora, stat!". Meanwhile, one of guys read out a headline from his newspaper that read "Do Kids Make Your Life Better?" and then loudly stated "Not Today". Listen, ass. I'm doing my best. It's mother's day and I am currently getting my eyes clawed out by a 30 pound demon so don't push me. We finally got Dora playing and the Kid was settled for a few minutes. Thank you jeebus.
Then it was time to land and I really considered breaking FAA rules and continue to play that damn DVD player until we landed but no, I didn't. Of course the Kid had another meltdown when we turned off Dora and I whipped out a Hot Wheel screaming "Auto! Look Raphael! Auto!!!" that distracted him for about a minute. As we landed his head spun and I think he cursed both the Husband and I but by golly we arrived. The rest of the commute was pretty low key after which my parents picked us up and then dropped us off at the hotel. We put the Kid down for a nap and then the Husband and I held hands, on the sofa, in silence for about 30 minutes. This is post tramautic stress, kids.
Two days later, we were back at the airport. The Kid was in decent spirits and we had a fine time walking around the terminal until we had to go to security. In Berlin there is no seperate place for people with demon children so we had to wait in line. Of course the Kid is about as patient as a gnat so he was pretty pissed again. And then he saw the X-Ray machine and of course that seemed like an awesome toy. He tried to claw his way through people and I had to drag him on the floor and then practically hold him upside down as I put my purse in the tray. I got death looks the whole time. Oddly enough, Berliners are super lovely but at the airport, not so much. The security people wanted the Kid to walk through the metal detector by himself and I was like "Do you see me holding him by the ankles, does this look like a kid that will saunter through?" luckily one guy was super nice and asked how old my monster was. Over the screaming and the spitting I yelled "Two... obviously." he smiled and nodded and I wanted to give him a fist pump but I had to drag my child over to another security guard who wanted to search my bag. At this point I was dripping sweat and if this was a movie, some ex-boyfriend would magically appear to see me at my finest. Leggings covered in fruit bar smears, shirt being pulled up by toddler to reveal gross sports bra and mascara running down my cheeks. Sexay sexay laday. We finally all made it through security and the Husband said "Well that was hard." He's lucky he can run fast. The most difficult thing he had to deal with was folding the stroller. The thing is inanimate and doesn't talk. Jerk.
This time we were prepared and put on the DVD player in the terminal and kept the Kid in his stroller. We only had to wait 5 minutes and then we were whisked through and on the plane. For some reasons we were surrounded by Swedes and that was a good sign because I like the Swedish. He kvetched when we had to buckle him in and he couldn't continue his other dumbass game of pulling up and down and up and down the window blind. But success, he was quiet, and then the minute the plane took off, he passed out. I cried from joy. He slept the whole flight and as soon as we landed he was up and ready to rumble. He complained all through the terminal while in his stroller but at that point I didn't care. We'd done it. We flew. We conquered. And so my friends. Flying with a two year old can be a good experience, or in our case, a complete and utter nightmare. Good thing the Kid's cute or else I might have let him ride the X-Ray machine.
The End.
Flying within Europe is unbelievably civilized so the Husband was able to drop off our baggage without the Kid and me which meant more walking and whining from the Kid. The great thing about the Vienna ariport is that they have a seperate security place for strollers and wheelchairs. Note to all airports, this is brilliant, for everybody!!! We got through security and made our way to our gate. So far so good and getting a little smug about our awesome little big boy in a backpack walking through the terminal. He found a vending machine and that kept him busy as we waited to board. When it was time to board, that is when the chaos happened. The Kid was not happy to be interrupted during his dumbass game of touching the vending machines. I held him in a death grip and we finally made it on. As we approached our seats, a group of men groaned when they saw we would be sitting behind them as they had witnessed his freak out in the terminal earlier. I ignored them and wished them all multiple children should they have kids in the future. The Kid was pretty good settling in. He called it an "Auto" but whatever.
We took off and he grimaced slightly but that wasn't too bad. After the initial excitement of taking off and the novelty of going at the speed of light wore off, he was pissed again. If he could form sentences he'd probably would have said "Why the hell am I stuck in this seat and why the hell can I not kick the seat repeatedly? Oh, and I hate you both." Before you think we flew unprepared I say shame on you. My purse could have beat the crap out of Mary Poppin's bag. I had Hot Wheels still in their packages, fruit bars, lollipops, action figures and oh how I wish I had baby Benadryl. We restrained the Kid until the no seatbelt sign turned off and then I yelled at the Husband "Take out the goddamn DVD player and put on Dora, stat!". Meanwhile, one of guys read out a headline from his newspaper that read "Do Kids Make Your Life Better?" and then loudly stated "Not Today". Listen, ass. I'm doing my best. It's mother's day and I am currently getting my eyes clawed out by a 30 pound demon so don't push me. We finally got Dora playing and the Kid was settled for a few minutes. Thank you jeebus.
Then it was time to land and I really considered breaking FAA rules and continue to play that damn DVD player until we landed but no, I didn't. Of course the Kid had another meltdown when we turned off Dora and I whipped out a Hot Wheel screaming "Auto! Look Raphael! Auto!!!" that distracted him for about a minute. As we landed his head spun and I think he cursed both the Husband and I but by golly we arrived. The rest of the commute was pretty low key after which my parents picked us up and then dropped us off at the hotel. We put the Kid down for a nap and then the Husband and I held hands, on the sofa, in silence for about 30 minutes. This is post tramautic stress, kids.
Two days later, we were back at the airport. The Kid was in decent spirits and we had a fine time walking around the terminal until we had to go to security. In Berlin there is no seperate place for people with demon children so we had to wait in line. Of course the Kid is about as patient as a gnat so he was pretty pissed again. And then he saw the X-Ray machine and of course that seemed like an awesome toy. He tried to claw his way through people and I had to drag him on the floor and then practically hold him upside down as I put my purse in the tray. I got death looks the whole time. Oddly enough, Berliners are super lovely but at the airport, not so much. The security people wanted the Kid to walk through the metal detector by himself and I was like "Do you see me holding him by the ankles, does this look like a kid that will saunter through?" luckily one guy was super nice and asked how old my monster was. Over the screaming and the spitting I yelled "Two... obviously." he smiled and nodded and I wanted to give him a fist pump but I had to drag my child over to another security guard who wanted to search my bag. At this point I was dripping sweat and if this was a movie, some ex-boyfriend would magically appear to see me at my finest. Leggings covered in fruit bar smears, shirt being pulled up by toddler to reveal gross sports bra and mascara running down my cheeks. Sexay sexay laday. We finally all made it through security and the Husband said "Well that was hard." He's lucky he can run fast. The most difficult thing he had to deal with was folding the stroller. The thing is inanimate and doesn't talk. Jerk.
This time we were prepared and put on the DVD player in the terminal and kept the Kid in his stroller. We only had to wait 5 minutes and then we were whisked through and on the plane. For some reasons we were surrounded by Swedes and that was a good sign because I like the Swedish. He kvetched when we had to buckle him in and he couldn't continue his other dumbass game of pulling up and down and up and down the window blind. But success, he was quiet, and then the minute the plane took off, he passed out. I cried from joy. He slept the whole flight and as soon as we landed he was up and ready to rumble. He complained all through the terminal while in his stroller but at that point I didn't care. We'd done it. We flew. We conquered. And so my friends. Flying with a two year old can be a good experience, or in our case, a complete and utter nightmare. Good thing the Kid's cute or else I might have let him ride the X-Ray machine.
The End.
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