Oh No You Didn't

After nearly 12 hours traveling, including a three hour delay in one of the most chaotic airport hubs in the country (hollaback Atlanta), we landed (with a serious ass thud and a skidding screech to a halt about which the flight attendant announced, "well, we made it") at almost 10pm.

Since thousands of flying dollars gets you about twelve peanuts, a half a diet coke and a seat, I had thoughtfully nourished my children beforehand with healthy airport fare (ie: greasy pizza and cranberry juice), kept them moving through Terminal B as well as I could (jumping jacks, mobile I Spy, "walks") and out of the way of weary travelers. We didn't even sit in the seats at the gate but instead camped out on the floor where their card games and cars would be less of a "nuisance." I gave the evil eye to the restless Giant Four Year old when he dared kick the seat in front of him once. I pointed my finger (from across the aisle) and added a stern "no more of that please mister" when he did it twice. On the third time, the scolding piss-off from the lady so offended by his fidgeting shamed that poor dude into submission.

I wanted to pour my stale bottle of water on her head. Could she not see we were doing the very best we could here? Could she not handle two harmless little jolts? Three?

There were no more kicks, no screaming, no fights. There were a couple of misfires in the bathroom (it was bumpy) but all in all, I would travel with those three shorties any day and I dare anyone who traveled with us to seriously complain: white-haired lady in seat 27E, I'm talking to you. Even when I was a kidless grrl flying across the country with black nail polish and a hangover, I never once glared at some frustrated kid or his stressed out parents. I didn't even want kids then and was pretty sure I was too cool to have any, but I never thought to feel anything but I guess pity and a touch of embaressment for the poor people dripping in sweat trying to wrestle some exhausted kid into silence.

So when I got off the plane, a little sweat drenched myself, I navigated us four through the crowds to baggage claim and nearly lost it when I saw this:



I used to be "just a mom" but now I am "just a mom with the bullhorn-headed kids." Seriously, fuck you. Next time, I'm gonna let 'em run the aisles, I'm gonna let 'em sing Scooby Doo songs at the top of their lungs and I'm gonna drink a forty from a brown paper bag with my own noise canceling headphones. 27E? She will long for the day when he harmlessly kicked the back of her chair three freaking times. LONG for it.

So there.