Mama Stranger

Hello and welcome to a hazy Saturday here at the Wannaskan Almanac by way of Lac du Bonnet. Today is July 20th.

On this last trip to the Czech Republic, something remarkable happened. I didn't get sick. Vomit, diarrhea, colds, allergies, I've experienced it all. While some of it might have to do with the season - pollen comes when it comes - I attribute it to stress. Flying with kids internationally takes a toll. I can remember arriving at my in-laws so thoroughly exhausted, that my body would turn inside out, as if my organism needed to completely shut down and reboot. I would be gutted. Convalescing took a couple of days and a concoction of Czech (tea and preserved blueberries) and American (Coca-Cola) remedies to get me back on track.

But this trip was different. First, the kids were already in the Czech Republic. Despite trying to solve a last-minute work snafu through wifi and WhatsApp, I was only traveling with my husband, whose few travel quirks elevate my anxiety in other ways, but not (apparently) to the levels of traveling with children.

On the international flight, I allowed myself one movie before switching off the screen. I purposefully tucked myself in and made myself "go to bed." The gesture worked this trip, as I actually did rest/sleep for 5 hours and (apparently) soundly enough to have missed the breakfast served before landing.

Our time in Czech Republic was well paced. Not too many late-late nights or early-early mornings. Healthy food and hydration. 

However, the main reasons why I think this trip was incredibly low-stress were because A.) the kids got along (a notable contrast to the bickering that re-emerged as soon as we got to our home in Wannaskaland) and B.) they managed themselves well.

They packed their own suitcases and backpacks. They knew to pack a water bottle and a hat. They brought the necessities and learned not to cram in bulky extras. They were flexible, ready for pretty much any adventure as long as it didn't include spiders or mosquitoes. Riding buses and trains was an adventure that held their attention. They managed their own luggage. They didn't wander off. Simple things held their attention like the Czech landscape, conversation, and the reading aloud of Bad Cat, Good Cat by Lynne Reid Banks, author of Indian in the Cupboard. (Which we read last year while in the Czech Republic.)

While all of our kids are good travelers, the youngest two are just a smidge more exceptional than their older siblings were at this age. I've wondered why, and a possible explanation could be that traveling as a pair might be a different experience than a trio. A pair means you rely on each other. Someone is relying on you and you are relying on them. Perhaps with a trio, the lines of responsibility get smudged. Who's in charge? You can point to the left or the right. With one extra person, someone else will take care of it, right?

On our international flight back, a mother with a 2-year-old toddler and a 10-month-old baby sat next to us. Right away I told her, "I have five kids and I've traveled a lot. I would be happy to help if you need anything." Memories of crying babies and restless toddlers flooded my brain as I spoke these words. She said thank you, but her eyes said no thank you. Who would trust a stranger with their baby?

A few hours later, she asked me to hold a bowl of messy mac-and-cheese as she cleaned up the baby and the spills in her 3-seat domain.

An hour after that, she asked if I could hold baby so she could take the toddler to the bathroom. Baby and I played face games. And later in the flight, she handed the baby over one more time with a smile and nod to the WC in the back. By this time, Baby and I had a rapport going on. Even the toddler, who had the window seat, peeked over to see who his sister was chatting with. 

All the while, my own children sat quietly in their seats, enjoying the online entertainment. Thrilling with each opportunity to request a soda from the flight attendant. Too excited by the experience of flying to sleep on the international flight (yet slept the entire domestic flight.) Happy to make their own googly eyes and cooing sounds to the littler littles sitting to their left.

The mother and I chatted a bit as she warmed up to this mama-stranger. "It genuinely gives me joy to help you," I told her. "I've handed my own babies over to strangers on more than one international flight." Even my husband chimed in with his own stories of walking the toddler(s) up and down the aisles and soothing crying babies.

Love is an international language. Compassion needs no conjugations or subject-verb agreement.

The children's cries of pain as cabin pressure changed while descending didn't irritate me. Instead, I thought, "I've been there."

(Source)