Flights and Kids DON'T mix!

We get on the plane and the hostess comes over and enquires how old the children are so that she may provide age appropriate packs for them. Rob announces 1 and 2. Now, I would have said nearly three and one and a half as this would put them BOTH clearly into the toddler category and they would receive the same pack. However, I’m not wanting to correct him and make him appear like he is not sure about his own children, so I smile and let the hostess hand out two very different packs. Felicity receives a blanket, a toy penguin, crayons, an activity book and some children’s headphones. Edward on the other hand receives a blanket, a toy penguin and... a little net bag containing a plastic spoon that would barely feed a hamster, a bib fit for a barbie doll, a nappy rash cream sample, which clearly states absolutely nothing legible regarding ingredients and a nappy sack that would line my kitchen bin. Well, if looks could kill... I thought the woman was going to dissolve in front of my very eyes. I try to show gratitude and tell the children to say thank you, which Felicity, very pleased with her pack repeats a few times. Edward just continues his horrible stare of death and throws his pack on the floor in absolute disgust.

It’s take off time and Edward is deciding to act like someone is threatening him with a hot poker. His butt his hardly touching his seat and the moves he’s pulling with his snarling, almost begging like, “Mummmmmmy” screeches is drawing the attention of not only our entire plane but I’m sure the others currently in the air space. I know this is just an attention moan rather than distress and at this point if I just said in my ‘Authoritative-No-Messing Mother’ voice, “Knock it off" he would sit down and sulk it out... quietly.  Unfortunately, this is not the time for THAT voice.  I have the perfectly quiet and civilised Walton family in front of us and an older couple to the side who have already complained about several other beyond control matters.  So, I feel compelled to be the most wussy, wimpy, push over mother ever and try to reason with this possessed beast. “come on darling, calm down, let’s count it out, ooooh look at this random and uninteresting object, blah blah blah” all the things I see other mums doing and feel like saying, “get a grip we all know it’s a show”.

I finally pacify him by feeding him the entire seven and a half hours supply of snacks I had and which have already caused flipping havoc at security. Rob refused to speak to me for a fair while. Now not even 30 minutes into the flight and darling 'Edward six poops and will not stay still for a nappy change’ has consumed raisins, cereal bars and fruit smoothies. delightful.

When the drinks trolly comes around I almost grab the wine from it myself in desperation. But seriously, I’m in holiday mode so feel one wine is perfectly acceptable...Right?!?! 

I have not had the drink for more than five minutes and only had one sip and Edward's next strop sends it flying all over my top and in my lap. I now have no wine and smell like a completely irresponsible drunk of a mother headed to one of the strictest countries in terms of behaviour tolerance possible.

I won’t bore you with the next six hours of flight time only to say that there was a whole load of arguing over the one suitably sized headset, which by the way they both had their own personalized, top of the range, previously purchased headsets to use; a competition on the loudest iPad with a refusal to use aforementioned headsets and then several spillages of food, coffee and water.  I also endured a discussion with the hostess about how we had not pre ordered the child meals to be vegetarian (Robs job might I add) and “is it not possible to peck the pasta out...” No hun I don’t have the patience nor capacity to deconstruct Bolognese!

Oh and I managed to watch 20 minutes of Mamma Mia in several parts whilst the husband watched two whole movies...Start to Finish with END CREDITS!