I’m sitting on a plane experiencing something I’ve rarely ever experienced while flying with my family: peace.
Now that the girls are 4, 6, and 9, they can pretty much entertain themselves on a flight. I admit I’ve got it pretty easy sitting with the older two while the husband sits with the youngest one row behind me. Ignorance is bliss.
This is not the case for a mom sitting one row in front of me. I’m mesmerized by her baby’s green polka dotted and pink soled socks, which are the only things I can see from my vantage point.
I glance down at the mom’s feet and see a bulging diaper bag with what I’m sure includes diapers, wipes, a change of clothes, bottles, and toys.
I then look at my bag. It’s not a diaper bag, but a stylish purse filled with an iPhone, sunglasses, wallet and tampons.
My daughters are doing connect-the-dots and maze puzzles while I watch her trying to get through the puzzle of baby distraction on a 3 1/2 hour flight. Peek-a-boo works for a little bit, so does blowing in her face. The distractions are short lived, and a little crying ensues. I’m not annoyed, just sympathetic.
This is the first time in nine years I haven’t had to bring a stroller, diapers, or wipes while flying with the family.
As cute as the baby is with her chubby arms and toothless grin is, I sure wouldn’t want to trade places with her mom.