I've just about had it with people who glare at parents with crying babies on airplanes. There are a few things I would like to say to these people. Specifically, there are a few things I would have liked to say to these people yesterday, when that mom with a crying baby was ME (and the baby was 16-month-old Magdalena) (and I hereby declare16 months to be the worst age to be flying on an airplane).
-Listen, pal, we got up for the day at 4.15 this morning and faced a blinding snowstorm on our way to the airport. Then our flight was delayed almost 3 hours, which fact we couldn't know until we were actually taking off, because until that point, all the airline people would tell us was that we could be cleared to leave at any moment so we needed to stay in the gate area.
-Lest you think I am one of those parents who thinks my kids will magically behave in stressful situations all on their own initiative, please know that I packed plenty of snacks and activities for my two children to enjoy on the three flights we would be taking today. But due to the unforeseen delays, I exhausted every single one of them before we even boarded one plane. PITY ME.
-As hard as it must be for you to occasionally hear my child squawk and fuss from the distance you are keeping in the boarding area, or from your far-away seat on the airplane, just know that it's worse for me. I promise you, it is worse for me. You see, you just have to roll your eyes and grimace about that baby crying. But that baby is mine, and I have to take care of her, all while knowing that it is annoying and distressing to everyone on board the airplane.
-Plus, if you think you have it bad having to share one flight with my crying baby, just imagine my terror: I have two more flights to go.
-And seriously, what's with the glare? I KNOW MY KID IS CRYING BECAUSE SHE IS DOING IT RIGHT IN MY FACE.
All of my feelings could be summarized less angrily with the simple mantra: I am doing my best. Really, I am.
Anyway, as bad as we thought we had it yesterday with three flights, all of which were delayed, and two missed connections, we encountered someone in the re-booking line in Detroit who had it worse. We left the house with our two kids before five o'clock in the morning; he left with his two kids before four o'clock. We were stranded in the terminal for three hours; he was stranded on the plane for four hours. Jeremy and I had each other to help; this guy was traveling by himself. Because his wife is in the army. And she's deployed. IN AFGHANISTAN.
So yeah, you think you have it bad but there is always someone who has it worse. Which is exactly what I am using this post to try to explain to the dude in 18C who kept giving Magdalena the stink-eye.
(In case your head hasn't exploded yet, read this article, especially if you've ever flown with kids. I have a lot to say about it but this post is long enough already.)
(And we reached our destination eventually even if it was much later than anticipated.)