If you're reading this on the same day as it posts, I'm currently trapped in a flying tube of metal for the next 10 or so hours (who's counting anymore) with Mateo
Well - since we bought our tickets to Peru, Wednesday January 23rd became my own personally known apocalypse. You might be thinking "Oh, there she goes; exaggerating again!" But honestly I try to see past that date, and I can't. I don't have the words to properly explain to you how terrified I am to endure this flight. For God's sake, I'm a grown-ass mom of 2 and yet the thought of getting onto that plane instantly turns me into a groveling little girl in the fetal position.
I'm too consumed in having NO idea how I'm going to handle a 10 hour flight (smack-dab in the daylight hours, no red-eye was available) and one connecting flight with 2 kids under the age of 3. It's truly been weighing heavily in the back of my mind for some time now. The past flight to the Bahamas when Diego was around Mateo's current age, really did a number on me!
I wish the entire flight of passengers were made up of readers like you: moms who understand my plight. I wish we could all be on the flight singing Kumbaya and letting our little ones smash the beverage carts into the seats while we drink in-flight cocktails, and watch Despicable Me on the big screen. But I don't have you here with me right now, and you KNOW I'm struggling. I'll imagine you cheering me on: "You can do it, Shirley! This one is for all the traveling mothers out there!"
I hope I don't let you down, truly. - Shirley
P.S. Posts may become scarce here for the next couple of weeks but I am bringing my Ipad (tricked out with a bluetooth keyboard) in case I have the opportunity to write a little (if I survive). I'll probably be on Instagram more (again - if I survive the flight). @GoldenDreemz