Thoughts on long haul flights with children

I used to dread long haul flights with children.

It started when I was single and dating future Scottish hubby. Due to our geographical locations, seeing each other always involved sitting for long periods in an airplane. Though I’ve never liked flying, the trip did offer 10 hours of reading time, or perhaps an opportunity to catch up on sleep.

On one of these trips, I realised that flying with children was not desirable. After picking up a skinny cappuccino and the latest “Hello” and settling down at the gate, I spotted a family with three small children — two of the kids were running around unsupervised, and the parents looked like they were trying to covertly change the baby’s nappy in the pushchair. I pretended not to notice, looked down at my magazine and hoped, PRAYED I wouldn’t be seated next to them.

When I got to 23C, I realised my prayers would not be answered. The weary-eyed mother looked me over and must have quickly sussed she would get no sympathy. She half smiled and tried to break the ice.

“Terrible weather today, isn’t it”. I looked at the baby and asked politely “How old is he?”

“SHE’s eighteen months,” the mother said, and I wondered why she wasn’t wearing make-up. I learnt later that eighteen months is the worst time to fly with a child — they can’t talk, they want to be on the move, and 10 hours on an airplane is a LONG TIME.

I was slightly more sympathetic when I had my own children.

One flight when the children were very small is etched in my mind — we arrived at the gate, a double stroller with buggy board, six carry-ons, three car seats, children in various states of moods and mobility. As soon as it was time to board, HM started to cry, I had missed her feeding time. Emily, the only one that could talk,  said she was hungry but didn’t want the digestives, and HM, just a toddler at the time, filled her nappy, the aroma adding the final touch to our party. I was too harassed to notice, but I’m sure there were many people watching us that were hoping, PRAYING they would not be seated next to us.

We of course were seated by a middle-aged business man, and as soon as we took off HM threw up all over his starched shirt. I apologised madly, he’d say not to worry, he knew what it was like to travel with small kids.

Now the girls are 4, 5 and 6 (that’s not a typo) long haul flights are much easier. I’ve learnt my lesson and for our most recent trip we stocked up on Nintendo DS’, Leapsters, and had an activity bag full of colouring, play dough, and games.

As we exited the plane, a business woman that was next to us touched my shoulder and said “Your girls are so well behaved. How do you do it?”

I looked round to make sure she was talking to me. She can’t possibly be referring to my girls?!

I just smiled and said thank you.

I’ve arrived.

Photo credit: ma1974