Don't forget to check for personal items left around your seat

Like, say, your pissy daughter?

Yeah, we flew back home last night. Remember that post where I said I wasn't really expecting the flight home to go well? Well, I forgot about that promise to myself and had expectations that Mags would sleep on part of the DET-SFO portion of our flight, as it started an hour before her normal bedtime. Holy f*** was I wrong. I think she maybe slept an hour of that whole thing. We landed at SFO around 10pm, which is 1 am body time for those of us who have been in a different time zone. Factor in running through an airport to make your nexy flight while lugging two backpacks and trying to herd a two year old who stopped to jump over every crack in the flooring on the way to the plane - yes, I was tired and cranky myself. And yes, I probably stayed in MI too long. I was definitely running on fumes by the end of the week (although the trip went suprisingly well. Husband thinks I should have only gone for 6 days, but I can't help wondering if regardless of how long I travel for, I will always reach my internal limit a day before I am supposed to leave. *shrug* )

Anyhow, back to the plane. Again, Mags just did not want to sleep. Squirm, wiggle, throw, whine. Luckily we sat next to a very patient woman who put up with a lot. But I still had to ride herd on Mags, 'cause she was kicking seats of people who weren't quite as understanding (frankly otherwise I woulda just let her bang around in her seat until she passed out. ) Books only worked so long, plastic animals only worked so long, snacks only worked so long -- hell, even the portable DVD player only worked so long! It was probably a good thing we were sitting next to someone, because it really helped me from completely snapping and going off the handle at Mags (ahh, nothing like a little well-placed social self-consciousness to make one act like a good parent.) I did try, I swear. I kept reminding myself that a) she's only 2, b) she'd been cooped up a lot because of the rain this past week, c) flying can be exciting, and d) *I* don't really want to be stuck on this airplane for 5 hours either. But really, by the 3rd hour, if you listened (not too closely) you could definitely hear rumbles and growls coming out of me. Sort of like listening to the ocean in a shell, except what you hear was more along the lines of 'Oh for the love of god!' and "Jesus f***ing H. Christ!' and 'If you don't sit down, I swear...' Not quite as soothing as the ocean, but with less sand in your underpants.

We eventually made it SF. As soon as I saw Husband waiting for us past security, I yelled, "Go long!" and threw Mags at him. I even managed to get a nice spin on her, too. Husband proceeded to magically get 4 pieces of luggage, a cranky little girl and a crumpled wife all to the car and tucked safely into bed at home. Mags'll be in day care for the next two days - amen, hallelujia - so that I can decompress and regain just a sliver of my sanity and sleep. Just in time for us to leave on *another* plane trip Friday! (possibly Saturday; I need to check.) Yes, you see, I am not real good at learning from my past. Who was it that said, "Those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it"? Let me introduce myself as the poster child for *that* particular slogan. I always over-extend myself when it comes to travelling. It's like childbirth: it is a huge, often painful ordeal covering many hours, but afterwards, you forget all the bad stuff and just bask in the ether of your happiness; in this case, just to be home. Except that I have done this since before said baby, so I'm not really sure what my excuse is. Well, at least this time, Husband will be with me on the majority of the trip, and at least on the return flight with Mags and I. I love my daughter, but there are just some times when a litter box and a bowl of food sounds like a really great idea....

In my defense, I appologised to Mags this morning. Even though she woke up screeching about some damn thing or another, I made sure I told her that I was feeling grumpy ("See my grumpy face?") but that I wasn't mad at her. She didn't seem to be too scarred from the whole experience, but just 'cause mama is at her limit doesn't mean I need to crap all over my kid. Or my husband, for that matter. I think he got it though, and is giving me a nice wide, not-taking-it-personally berth until I return to my sanity.

And as long as returning doesn't involve ANYTHING having to do with flying, I hope to arrive shortly.