Recently we were traveling by plane and had the wonderful experience of waiting at the airport (our flight was delayed), while one kid was sleeping in the double stroller, one had a diaper leak, and one was hungry/tired/bored.
Finally as time comes to board the aircraft, we lug past business class with our bulging backpack, a diaper bag hitting every seat, plus a sleepy-now-awake-and-angry-and-also-throwing-a-tantrum toddler. Did I mention another kid was now also sleepy/cranky/screaming?
And as I plop into my seat, I couldn’t help but think about the faces those business class passengers were making at us. Definitely not like the understanding nods that fellow parents give you as you tote around your kids and their seemingly never-ending necessities.
Ahh, business class. Sharp dressed men and women with no toys or huge bags around them, maybe a laptop propped comfortably in front of them. Or swiping on a tablet they don’t have to share. Or reading a newspaper. A newspaper!! I remember those… I used to work at a newspaper and have an unexplainable love for flipping through the pages and getting ink on my fingers.
You want to know the last time I read a newspaper? When I spread them out on the floor so my kids could paint and not get the floor messy. Yes, it was an old edition and yet, I still kept reading…..
The last time I looked at a tablet? I only get a minute of tablet time anyway, just enough time to scroll through the news headlines on the lock screen before a kid comes to me grabbing it and wanting to play some game involving making a pizza or feeding a cat.
While we sat squished in coach, I told my husband to let’s travel business class when the kids get older and we are able to enjoy having our tray table down without a kid banging on it. He gave me a weary smile.
And I think flight attendants never have children. Or it seems that way. Because they will always give you anti-kid friendly directions, like, “Please put away that LeapPad until after the plane takes off,” (cue crazy child screaming).
Or the best one is when your toddler is trying to run down the aisle and you are trying to contain him, and the flight attendant comes by with those wonderfully attractive child seat belts. Yes, I can see my child will now certainly calm down for this.
As I wrangle with my son to get the belt on him, the lady next to me sees my son flailing about, she brushes off the flight attendant and says, “Just put it around him so it looks like it’s on.”
I smile at her and do exactly that. (Disclaimer: Yeah, I know it isn’t safe. But I had my son with me under my belt.)
It felt nice to finally have someone understand me and what I was going through. This nice lady didn’t grunt when I accidentally dropped my shawl onto her seat, or groan when I bent down for the 10 millionth time to pick up a pacifier from around her feet.
Even as we departed the aircraft and made our way onto a bus to get to the terminal, the odds were still against us. I had a toddler now sleeping on my shoulder and no stroller. My husband had a 3-year-old sleeping on his shoulder, and he was practically dragging our 6-year-old who was also sleepy. With my bag hanging in the crook of my elbow, I just leaned against the side of the bus and prayed to get home NOW.
God must have heard my prayer, because all of a sudden a woman traveling with her mother motioned to me and gave me her seat. I thanked her with my words and my eyes, and every fiber of my being. Her mother asked me how many kids I had, and she smiled this smile that said, “Oh yes, I’ve been there.”
It really makes a difference when you sympathize with people. We all have been in different life situations. Whether it is dealing with children, spouses, parents, neighbors, coworkers, certain health issues, etc., we have all been there. It just takes a smile and an understanding act of kindness to show that yes, I am also human. I understand where you are coming from.
Isn’t this why God put us all on this Earth together? To learn from each other. To learn to live with each other. And more importantly, to become selfless people who care for one another.