I should have known it would be a bad day...

...When the airport trip started like this:

Curb check-in man: "Your bags are overweight."
Me: "Um, about 5 lbs right? I mean, is that a huge issue?" (Trying to bat my eyes. Trying a sweet voice. Seeing this isn't working. )
Man: "Yes. Delta is very strict on this."
Me: "Really, there's no leeway, huh?" (Trying to woefully discuss this dilemma with my mom. Trying to start looking weepy and like I might have a nervous breakdown in front of this man. Doesn't seem to be working. I swear this stuff used to work when I was single!)
Man: "No."
Me: "Ok, ok. So what's the fee for overweight baggage?"
Man: "$90 a bag."
Me, choking: "WHAT?? Did you say $90 a bag? And I have two bags? It's only $25 to even check a second suitcase in the first place. For that price you would rather have me bring on seven extra suitcases????

Dang! And we had thought we would curb check to save time and effort of dragging all our bags/babies into the terminal, but now we were just stuck in the freezing cold, our ride had left and I had to figure out where to put 11lbs of stuff. And here I was having to open up my gigantic suitcase with underwear and who knows what spilling out all over the curb (come to think of it, there really was some weird stuff in there - fake hair, maxi pads...). Luckily I found a random plastic bag and had to fill it up with junk, pound by pound. Cash was screaming and wanted to be held. The babies were cold. I was about to start producing real tears. I think he finally got sick of standing there watching me and suggesting items I could take out and let me get away with an extra 2 lbs.

Then the whole public bathroom issue. I guess most of you have older kids so this is old news to you. But yeah, I guess you don't take your toddler into the bathroom with you when you really have to go, if you know what I mean. Cash wouldn't go in the small stalls with me. So I figured we'd go in the handicapped stall. Didn't really realize that that would mean door opens out. Should have thought of that. Didn't. Didn't realize Cash's only entertainment in said stall would be playing with the lock. Should have thought of that. Didn't. Should have realized the lock would be just out of my reach in the big stall and that I would be left exposed in a super compromising position and would have to hop out crouched over in the fig leaf position to try to grab the door multiple times. Yeah, didn't. Had to attempt to keep one cheek on the toilet and one hand on the lock. And still relax enough to get the deed done. Finally had to end up with a tantrum-throwing toddler on my lap while I attempted to go. Guess I'm forewarned for next time.

Then we finally had a break! The flight was quite open so we had a whole row to ourselves! "Great!" I say to the stewardess, "So can I take their car seats on?" "No." "Why not? Last time we had a flight like this the agent suggested that I do that." "Nope." Ugh. That was my only real hope for getting them to sleep - just like a car ride, right? So of course, not one of my three children slept for even one second of the 5-hour late-evening flight. We were all disasters by the end. At one point I was even in the back getting water from the attendants and just as I was trying to dump in the formula we hit major turbulence. It was a mess. Really, the whole thing was unpleasant at best.

Not to mention how late it was when we got home, and how messed up the kids were. They kept waking up every 20 minutes until about 3am. And I had this plan that we were going to "forget" Cash's pacifier at grandma's house. Yeah, at 3am after enough screaming you wonder what the heck you were thinking and give the kid his dang pacifier. I'm done with resolving to do something that will make my life harder. I'll get rid of it when he gives up his nap. We'll both be miserable then anyway.

But as some of you reminded me: at least the flight ordeal was only one day of my life.

And so now we're back to normal. ish. Grandma is here and my life is soooo much less stressful that way. And Cash got to go back to his beloved therapy. Apparently our kids are the poster children for being "special." You can check out their website here. They're also going to be on their brochure. Isn't that, um, great?