Flying Solo with Three Kids in a Post 9-11 World

Hello again. We've been in Florida since Monday, and I haven't been able to hook up my Internet, so I've been separated from my alter ego for almost a week. Probably not a bad thing.

Monday was one of the most stressful days I've experienced as a mom of three. A few months ago, Jeff called me and told me there were $49 flights to Orlando in July and would I rather fly than drive all three kids down here with his mom. Sounded like a great idea at the time, but now I'm not so sure.

First of all, it's extremely difficult to pack everything you need for three kids, one of whom is 16 months old, in 2 suitcases and a carry-on. We also had to make arrangements to have car seats and all the big baby things down here waiting for us.

But the worst part was definitely the stress of just getting everybody through the airport and to the gate. Obviously I have no pictures of this airport experience. When in the name of all that is good in the world would I have had time to take a picture?

We arrived at the airport almost an hour and a half before our flight, which proved to be divine favor. Jeff was with me as we checked our bags at the curb. No problem. We moved quickly through and on to security.

At the front of the line when the lady checks boarding passes, she sweetly looks at me and says, "Honey, you're going to hate me, but you are supposed to have a sticker on your boarding pass that designates you have a lap baby." She was very nice, and sent me out the side of the line and told me to come right back there as soon as I had my sticker.

So as Jeff is ready to leave, he sees me coming back out of the security line and is wondering what is going on. I leave the big kids with him and race over to the Southwest counter to get my sticker. Again, a line. Once I got to the front, I tell the lady what I need.

She says, "No problem. Can I please see his birth certificate?" Whoops. I don't have a birth certificate. Any thing that proves his age? Nope. My heart rate is way over aerobic activity at this point. I call Jeff and ask where Bryant's birth certificate is. We didn't bring one. You see, back in June when I flew the big kids, I brought both birth certificates and no one ever asked for them. Apparently the only reason they need one is to prove a child is under 2. This would have been good to think through before arriving at the airport.

So the Southwest lady doesn't panic. Which, can I say, would have been a completely different experience had we been flying United. I'm quite sure they would have sweetly told me that I was screwed and to have a nice day. But this kind lady asks me where he was born. Somehow she gets through to Baptist Hospital and gets proof of his age. It was unbelievable. I am so grateful for this woman. So I got my little sticker and raced back to security.

At this point, however, Bryant has decided that he doesn't want to be in the stroller. I mean, really doesn't want to be in the stroller. There is nothing I can do about this. I have to get everybody through security, and there is no way that I can either carry him or chase him around. So I had to just let him scream. And scream he did. I love it when people stare at me.

We walked right back up to the front of the line and the lady let us through. The kids' shoes were off and in Brad's backpack. I had one of my ziploc bags with Bradley. Of course I couldn't have anything open in a sippy cup or bottle for Bryant, so I had a can of Pediasure to give to him once we got through. This is a bizarre world that we live in.

My laptop was out. We got our two bins and had everything in them. I sent B&B through and pushed all the bags. Then I start to push my stroller through. Not so much. The security guard stops and tells me I have to take off Bryant's shoes, take him out of the stroller, fold up the stroller and send it through x-ray. I looked at him to be sure he wasn't joking. Bryant's head is spinning around and there is green stuff shooting out of his mouth. He wasn't joking.

So I take Bryant out of the stroller, which does make him stop screaming. After all, this is what he has been begging for. His shoes come off and go in a bin. A security guard helps me fold up the stroller and push it through. There is a line the size of Texas piling up behind me. I can feel the heat from their laser stares into the back of my head. I walk through... and beep. Of course I had forgotten the cell phone in my pocket. So we have to go back for a small bin.

Finally I get through to the other side. Putting Bryant back in the stroller was as fun as you can imagine. I'm trying to grab all of my things and keep up with my children as well. Everything came through except my diaper bag, which they have taken to the special line to search. We were able to move over to the side to wait. Then the security guard brought me my bag, but I could see she had something in her hand. It was my travel bottle of Clorox Anywhere spray. Apparently that's considered HazMat. I had forgotten it was even in my bag. It's now the property of Federal Aviation.

Once we finally got down to our gate, we had to stop for a stroller tag. Then we parked in the pre-board area. Which on a flight to Orlando is usually just as long as the A line for all the families traveling with small children. I had to let Bryant out of the stroller, and then spent the next 20 minutes chasing him around. If I picked him up and tried to hold him he would scream and fight me with all his might. I could again feel the stares. I know what I would have been thinking if I were anyone around me. "Please, God, don't make me sit anywhere near them!"

Once we got on board, we quickly got seated and I began making a bottle. I didn't intend to give it to him until takeoff, but once he saw it there was no getting around it. He drank it while everyone was boarding. Fortunately, he was sleepy enough that he continued to sit on my lap while we were taxiing. He was interested in the way we were moving. I told the kids, "The best thing that can happen to us is for Bryant to go to sleep. Please pray right now!" And they did. And it worked. My baby boy slept from the moment we entered the air until our wheels hit the tarmac. Thank you, Jesus.

Unfortunately, even though we were early, the people at our gate were not. In fact, they were quite late. So we sat. And sat. 20 minutes went by before we could come up to the gate. Unfortunately, Bryant was awake during this 20 minutes. And ready to disembark. And repossessed by some kind of evil spirit.

I called Jeff once we were on the highway with my father-in-law and he asked me if I thought it was worth it to fly. "I'm still thinking," I told him. I'm still not sure.

I think it must have been easier to fly kids before we took terrorism seriously. I'm afraid it's only going to get worse.

But three days later, it's not looking that bad. We didn't have to drive 12 hours, many of which Bryant would have surely screamed through in the car. And I have three more before I attempt it again. This time at least Jeff will be with me. That should improve things quite a bit. :)