Let me start by saying that I am very fortunate to have 2 healthy (they need to be) and kind-hearted in-laws, who once a year go above and beyond the call of duty to stay home alone with Flo and Mo, allowing hubby and I to take a much needed break.  I look forward to these breaks like a 7 year old looks forward to Christmas.  Everything about them is a rare treat.

Of course I look forward to sleeping late in a bed not occupied by 2 small (and usually fighting) children with Dora playing as background noise.  Having time to get ready to go out without first having to make chicken nuggets for dinner, give the kids a bath and put them to bed, leaving me 20 minutes to decide what I’m going to wear, have a shower and dry my hair.  Stopping for a glass of wine in the afternoon following a leisurely stroll through the shops, where I don’t spend the entire time trying to stop Flo trying on six-inch heels.  My heart literally flutters with excitement just at the thought.

But even before we board the plane, the vacation has begun. When packing, I do not need to determine first what kid related paraphernalia can not be lived without, such as Spotty Dog or every Backyardigans DVD ever made, before deciding how many pairs of shoes I can take.

The airport no longer requires my calculating a mathematical equation, taking into account distance, speed and potential obstacles, in order to determine the last minute I can take the children to the bathroom before we have to board the plane, thereby eliminating the panic of needing a bathroom break during the no seat belt sign.

And sitting on a plane for 4 hours, with nothing to do, but sleep or read.  No bottom wiping, no snack getting, no fight refereeing, no “muuuuuuuuumy”.  So why then am I sitting here thinking, “hmm, what shall I do now?”  I’ve finished both my book and People magazine, I’ve had my complimentary drink, there are still 2 hours of flight time left and I’m bored.  Yes bored, it’s an unfamiliar emotion to me, one that if I really try I can just about recall prior to having children.  I could start a new book, hubby has even offered me his iPad for a game of Angry Birds, but nothing can distract me.  Every five minutes, my internal (and much to the amusement and soon annoyance of hubby, sometimes external) voice is saying, “how much longer is it going to be?”

Frankly I’m a little annoyed with myself.  I have it, that illusive thing that all moms crave – peace and quiet, time to think, time to just sit and relax.  And I have reverted to my fidgety and short-attention-spanned, Flo and Mo aged self.

And now that this blog is written, I’m back to the clock watching.  So what do you think, would the pilot be very annoyed if I just popped up to the front and asked, “are we there yet?”

P.S. just to add to my misery, a doddery old man decided to feign illness in order to get a non scheduled drop off in Vegas thereby delaying us by more than an hour.  He better have won big!


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