Written 2 weeks ago... posted today... I am a HOPELESS blogger, I know. But I try :)
One week ago, I bundled my 3 children into a taxi bound for Manchester airport to begin our adventures across that little pond we like to call: the Atlantic Ocean. Alpha Male was doing a 3 month fellowship at a hospital in Manhattan and had gone out 6 weeks earlier. We were joining him for the last 7 weeks to share in the adventure and to attend a family wedding whilst we are here.
We arrived at Manchester airport Radisson hotel at 9.30 pm the night before our flight. Of course, the original intention was to arrive at 7 pm and spend a relaxed evening at the hotel in preparation for our early start, but those who know me will confirm that timing was never my strong point. However, in my defence, I had not scheduled emergency dental treatment into the day's plans, nor had I factored in someone reversing into my car and having to deal with insurance companies and garages in the last few days prior to departure. But who wants a quiet life? Ahem... occasionally..... me. The 3 kids were beside themselves with exhaustion by the time we arrived and having bathed them and got them into jammies before leaving home, I had 3 sleeping babies, out for the count within about 7 minutes of entering the room. Bingo. Finally, I could breath a sigh of relief. With a G&T waiting in the mini-bar and burger and chips (well, I had to get into the spirit of going to the US!) via room service, I soon began to relax.
The next morning, we were all up bright and early at 5am to begin our travels. Now, before you all start to exclaim at this madwoman flying alone with 3 children, do not fret, I was traveling to the US with my in-laws (traveling over from Malaysia for their baby son's wedding), so that they could help, supposedly. Not that they didn't help. All organised and ready to travel, we got through check-in, security and onto the plane without a hitch. I had booked our flights through an agent, requesting aircot seats, making sure we were all sat together. I had confirmed at least 3 times via email with the estate agent that we were all sitting together and she confirmed that this request had been made with Continental on each occasion. Such confidence had I that this had been prearranged that I didn't even bother to check this detail at check-in. How foolish. As we queued to board the plane, I realised that the in-laws who went out of their way to make arrangements to fly with me so that I would have help on the flight, had been seated 20 rows behind me! So there I was with a 9 month old, 2 year old and 5 year old on a full flight, in a row of 3 seats without any help. Even the threat to the surrounding passengers of 3, small, potentially very noisy children wasn't enough to tempt any of them to offer to swap seats! Fantastic.
Luckily for me, the kids chose to be angelic during takeoff with no arguments over window seats or who was sitting next to mummy and not too many requests from me to fold their table up before take off and to stop kicking the seat in front. The baby nursed to sleep and the older 2 giggled as we challenged the pilot to get on his marks and get set.... GO!
An hour into the flight and the baby wakes up, the fidgeting starts, the 'I need the toilet' requests commence, the demands for food begin, the novelty of the inhouse entertainment wears off and my request to the steward for the 'strongest drink you have' is made.
With baby awake, I walk to the back of the plane and make a deposit with the proud and patient grandparents and then set my sights on settling the other two. Out come the books and toys from the 'Trunkis'. And this bit, I have to say, I planned very well. I did quite a bit of research into suitable travel toys and bought a few little presents for each child prior to the trip. I kept it all a surprise until the flight and then allowed them the excitement of opening a few new parcels. Several friends had also given some lovely travel gifts and colouring books and it was not long before I had 2 quiet children. Pleased with myself, I settled down to watch a movie I had been dying to see having read and loved the book about a year earlier - The Help. Who was I trying to kid? The games I bought required help, instruction, the crayons required picking up, the coloured-in pictures required approval. Books needed to be read and the food arrived. Eugh.
At different points during the flight, all 3 children slept for a couple of hours. Just never at the same time.
Whatever happened to the days of a boozy flight, a couple of films, an opportunity to start the holiday read and a jolly good snooze?
After what seemed an eternity, it was time to put our seat belts on once more in preparation for descent and landing. Landing has never been a good time for me, I almost always develop motion sickness during the last 15 minutes of a flight and unfortunately I have passed this on to my eldest son. So there we were - me as green as a lime, 5 year old vomiting into his sick bag, 2 year old crying because she had just woken up and wanted her seatbelt off and baby demanding to be fed to soothe his popping ears. Thanks Continental.
Needless to say, we all arrived in one piece at Newark International airport to a fantabulous view of Manhattan, through the windows at immigration. And apart from a customs 'jobsworth' picking on the mother traveling with 3 kids, 2 pensioners and more than a dozen items of luggage, we had arrived, in one piece to a happy reunion with daddy, uncle G and aunty K!
We were in New York City!
We were in New York City!
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