Kids on a Plane.

I’m going on vacation. Nope, that’s wrong, I’m taking the kids on vacation. Let’s be honest, taking the kids on vacation and me being on vacation are two entirely different things. Oh, and did I mention my parents are going with us?

I have never been on a plane with my kids. I’m scared, you guys. I don’t know what to expect. The Destroyer can’t sit still at all. When he is sitting he idles, like a motor. Wondergirl can’t sit by either of her brothers without using her fists in some way. Kid Sensation, well he’s okay. He doesn’t say much, but then Wondergirl makes him cry and by that time my last nerve is completely shot. This is when we drive to the grocery store that is two miles away. I have no idea what to expect on a 6 hour flight.

Of course I have all the requisite electronics and you better believe I’m paying for in-flight TV and such. But what if that doesn’t work? I checked the TSA website, and it seems they frown upon bringing duct tape and rope on board. So now what?

Google, is what. Pinterest, is what. I looked at all kinds of tips and suggestions, and all they did was confirm that everyone else is a better, craftier parent than I am. All I can do is imagine my kids’ response when I present them with a mini soccer game made out of paper and straws. I keep hearing Piper Laurie’s voice in my head, “They’re all gonna laugh at you. They’re all gonna laugh at you.” And since I don’t have Carrie’s telekinesis, I would just have to sit there and take it.  Hurt feelings and all.

After I show them my homemade game that I tried to copy off of Pinterest.

We’re leaving tomorrow. Help! For the love of all that is good, HELP ME. Otherwise, Wondergirl may hijack the plane with a plastic spoon, a rubber band, and a napkin and make the pilot take us to Paris (that’s her dream vacay).

Hmmmm…I might let her. I’ve never seen the inside of a Parisian prison before.

Suggestions welcomed, encouraged and begged for.


Is this Hades? Nope. Just Summer Vacation.

It’s the first day of summer vacation. Three hours in. I have been cleaning and threatening non-stop. I have a headache and I already want a glass of wine. If there is anything that could lead to morning drinking, it’s being a stay-at-home mom during summer vacation.

I have read all kinds of articles and blog posts about what to do with your kids during vacation time. Sadly, none of them include dropping them off at the Humane Society and pretending that they are strays. Summer camp is out of our price range. Which is just as well, because I am positive that we would be called to pick Wondergirl up after the first day, the counselors insisting that we pick her up by the side of the road while they and all the other kids cower in their bunks.

So what is summer vacation actually like for me?

9:00ish- Wake up. Think “Oh, yeah. The kids are still here. Maybe if I lie here still for long enough, they’ll think I’m dead.” Hear a crash and yelling. Have to get up.

9:15 – Head downstairs. See the kitchen a mess. Contemplate going back upstairs to try playing dead again.

10:00 – Scream and threaten everyone into cleaning up.

11:00 – Click my heels three times and wish for a nanny. Doesn’t work.  Kid Sensation has a meltdown about trying not to have a meltdown.

12:00 – Explain for the umpteenth time that there is pretty much only one option for lunch and I am not cooking lunch just because they’re here. This ain’t no diner, and PBJ is good enough for people who don’t pay bills.

12:15, 12:45, 1:00, 1:05, 1:20, 1:45 – Break up fights.  All of them involve Wondergirl.

2:00 – Hand out snacks. This is to keep The Destroyer from parking in front of the fridge and eating everything out of it. He is a bottomless pit. However, unlike his mother, he is a bottomless pit that remains thin and muscular. Boooooo.

3:00 – THANK GOD. We don’t have cable anymore, so we have to wait around for PBS kids to come on. Now everyone can shut up for an hour or two while I count down to five o’clock. What happens at five?

5:00 – WINE TIME!!!!! Yes indeedy, ladies and gentlemen, at 5:00:01 there is a glass of Riesling in my hand. Not in a regular sized glass, either. It’s one of the giant-sized Pier 1 tumblers-on-a-stem all the way. Besides, after half of this glass, I can act like I am happy to see the Big Man after he left me here all day alone with Wakko, Yakko, and Dot.

Image from simulated
Actual photo of my kids.

7:00 – I like late dinner. That way everyone can eat, bathe, and get out of my face by 9:00. But first, scream and threaten everyone into cleaning up.

9:00 – The Big Man and I pretend that we still have the energy to be romantic. The goal of the game is to see who can maintain the farce the longest. We both lose. The Big man falls asleep and I stare at the TV trying to make something good appear. Or at least Benedict Cumberbatch.

These are just my average days. Sometimes we break up the routine, we go to the library, the park, the zoo, etc. I mean, I do put in the effort to parent at least once a week. That way, when they talk to their therapists, they’ll have something good to say.


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