The weary travelers return
I've always said that if you approach things like air travel with two small children expecting the worst, things can only be better than you anticipated. This time, the trip met our expectations.
On the way to Arizona, Julia suddenly complained of feeling ill and then her eyes rolled back into her head and shut and every bit of color drained from her body. For the record, 32,000 feet is not the best place to have a medical emergency. The cause of her sudden malaise was unclear, but some attention and extra beverages from the flight attendants eventually brought her around. By the time we landed, she was quite chipper again. I was still having heart palpitations at the mental image of holding my child's pale and motionless body in my arms, however. Still am, truth be told.
On the way home, our flight was delayed for 3 hours and our children used up every bit of their "play quietly with airplane toys" quotient before we ever even left the ground. In the air, they both demonstrated a shocking inability to behave in public places. Julia whined all the way home. Evan screamed and arched his back and flailed like an epileptic in the midst of a seizure. No one slept. No one played quietly. And none of the passengers who unconvincingly admired them did a very good job of masking their true horror as they inched away from us toward the exit rows.
On the up side, the actual time we spent in Arizona was surprisingly delightful. The kids had a ball and frankly, so did we. A good time and plenty of soy milk was had by all. And now we are home, and as Paul pointed out as we finally tucked our children into bed at 11:00 last night, we will never have to fly with a 20 month old again. Amen to that.