Our trip began by driving to Abu Dhabi to finish some paperwork before flying out. We picked nap time, apparently, because not long on the road, all three kids were like this:
On flying day we got up at 2 AM, well, Ben, Talia the baby and I got up, but poor Elias was in a daze. We had a one hour flight to Qatar and then a 16 hour flight to Dallas.
People ask how I can fly with two kids and a baby, and, let me tell you now, I'm no super mom. We took it one moment at a time. Talia was an amazing helper and the friendly airline staff were all incredible. Especially when tired Elias got scared of the escalator as I was going down with the baby and a bag and Talia with bags and he stood on the top and wailed. An airport guy picked him up and brought him down. I was thankful for so many blessings on flight day: The boys had gotten over the fevers that had popped up just two days before traveling, a friend had helped us figure out the luggage transportation issue (three kids, small car, 12 pieces of different kinds of luggage...), many of the people I wanted to say bye to were able to arrange a meeting, the flight went through Qatar (known for spacious and nice flying accommodations), everything was checked including the stroller smoothly and with not much of a wait, the kids behaved very well on the plane and even slept much of the time, we were surrounded with nice people who had children or didn't mind them... so many, many things went beautifully.
Still, a 16 hour flight is no picnic. I always break it up mentally into 6 hour increments... I'm not sure that it helps, because it usually goes like this:
First 6 hours: WE DID IT! We got through 6 hours without kids melting down or the plane crashing, or a million other scenarios that lurk in the back of my mind when flying.... but then I realize that we have TEN MORE HOURS TO GO!
Second 6 hours: The baby slept for THREE CONSECUTIVE HOURS! On a normal flight that would be almost the whole flight, or at least half! I can't believe we have 4 more hours: My shoulders hurt from holding little people, my backside feels glued to the aircraft seat and my eyes hurt from the screens everywhere and crazy hours and, "did we really get up at 2AM? Why is it impossible to sleep?"
Third 6 hours: So, it's not really 6 hours, right, I just do that to make me feel better when I remember that it's less than the first. Unless you count the time in the airport and the hour driving home? "ARE WE EVER GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE... I'm starting to feel like I'm suffocating."
Regardless, we made it alive. We are now enjoying the (sneeze) flowers and green things everywhere. Everything is greeeeen! We played in the rain! We harvested things from a garden! We went to an easily accessible church! We have family close! And, maybe best of all...
THAT PLANE RIDE IS FINISHED!!!!