Turbulence = Turbulent Tummies

Carry-ons?     Check.

Disneyland tickets?     Check.

Barf bags?    No barf bags! Well that's not a big deal.

I would be remembering those thoughts bitterly just a few short hours later. I would also be wearing and smelling them too.

Last Spring Break, Christmas was no longer the coolest day of the year in the eyes of my children. It was the day they got to fly on a magical airplane to take us to the happiest place on Earth. I could hear them talking about our trip before they went to bed and I could hear them whispering about it again at the buttcrack of dawn the next day. Mom and Dad G. drove us to the airport and the whole way there the boys kept talking about the airplane and who got to sit by the window.

As for myself, I was already feeling queasy. I hate flying. It's the whole taking off and landing part. And also the part in the middle where I am suspended several miles above Earth. Maybe it's also the part where if something goes wrong - I have a snowball's chance in hell of fixing it. And yes, the turbulence just confirms my belief that people were not meant to fly and it's a miracle every single time I am in a plane and don't die.

All that being said, I was excited by the excitement of the boys. How could I not be?
Once we boarded and settled in I was happy. To be honest the entire first flight was pleasant. We landed in Utah with no problems and all we had left was a short flight over some mountains and then we would land in sunny California.

Again, we boarded, Caleb and Owen sitting with me on one side and then Mark across the aisle from us. It was Caleb's turn for the window seat and he was thrilled to death. I was just anxious to be done with the plane rides and get to our destination so our real vacation could begin.

Take off was smooth and time quickly passed. The boys were playing with some i-touches I had borrowed from a friend, Mark was chatting with the people in the seats next to him and I was content reading Black Heels to Tractor Wheels. Then the first bumps started. No big deal. I was calm, cool, collected - bumps don't bother this woman. That's the image I was trying very hard to project. Then the bumps escalated and our plane pitched a wee bit. Hmmm... As the bumps increased the volume of sweat in my armpits did also. I put away my book and began to grip my handrests in the hope that by my holding tight to them it would somehow miraculously force the plane to stop doing what it was doing. (Logic is not included in the telling of this story). Conversations were beginning to stop and the fasten seatbelts signs came on, when the pilot came over the loudspeaker telling us that we were passing through a storm system and we would be experiencing some turbulence. I had thought that's what we were experiencing but nope, that was small stuff compared to what was coming.

The bumps increased and at one point the plane dropped so suddenly that the overhead compartments in the back opened, things came flying out, and my coat that was in my lap, flew up and hit the ceiling. In between my steady praying I decided I needed to check on the status of my children and be ready to give them the "This Is Normal and We Are Perfectly Safe" speech. I opened one eye and peeked over at them. This is what they were doing in the midst of the worst turbulence I have ever experienced:

    Both of them have their hands in the air just like you do on a roller coaster ride. They are laughing with wild abandon and at one point Owen says "This is the best ride ever!".
Needless to say they were not concerned.

Finally, the worst part of it was over. Conversations began to resume throughout the airplane. I begin to unclench my hands from the armrests truly believing it was partly my valiant efforts that kept us in the air. The pilot made another announcement saying that the we were waiting our turn to land at John Wayne International but that it wouldn 't be much longer. So began the circling...

It all started with the child who was sitting behind Mark. His parents were behind me and I heard the boy whisper to his Dad, "Daddy... I don't feel good". The Dad told him to hang on; that we were almost done.

The poor kid couldn't hang on. He threw up all over the place. Mostly on the floor but some on the seats, some on his Dad and some on himself. I covered my nose and tried to think happy thoughts when I happened to glance at my children to see how they handling the vomit. Caleb looked at me and I instantly noticed he was white. Very white. I asked him if he was doing ok and he silently shook his head. Now Caleb is my "well child". The one who is never sick and has only thrown up maybe 3 times in his life and that number might be an exaggeration. I started to look for a barf bag and that's when I remembered not being concerned about it earlier. I finally found one in the seat in front of Caleb and just as I brought it up to his little face, he vomited. The poor peanut tried to get it all into the microscopic size hole of the bag while I held onto the bottom of it and rubbed his back. I tucked Owen into my armpit figuring it had to smell better than the fresh puke that was barreling out of his brother's mouth. As the bag filled up with hot liquid (that I ccould feel as well as smell) I suddenly realized that motherhood has given me superpowers! I could overcome the smell of vomit! I had some on me, was holding some in my hand, and I didn't feel the slightest big queasy! Just as Caleb's vomit was getting close to cresting the top of the bag he leaned back and said he was finished. I motioned to a stewardess and handed the whole stinking mess off. 

We were preparing to land by this point and all I could think of was that I was so grateful to be getting off the plane. I looked over at Mark to share my thoughts and saw that he was also holding a barf bag and looking green so I didn't want to break his concentration. I figured he was holding it back by sheer force of will. This is the guy that vomited our entire deep sea fishing trip and who cannot even look at a Tilt-A-Whirl without gagging. 

Just as I started to look away, I saw out of the corner of my eye the person in front of Mark vomit. Seriously. Right into her lap. The smell in the cabin of that airplane was becoming a little much - even for me with my newly discovered superpowers. I was also starting to realize the limit of said superpowers. They only applied to the vomit of my own offspring. Other people's puke was still disgusting. And the smell of it was making me want to puke in sympathy. 

We were finally done, the fasten seatbelts sign was off and I unbuckled Owen and moved him towards Mark so that I could help Caleb clean up with some napkins and spit. Just as I finished, I heard Owen say "Mommy" and I turn in time to see Mark put the barf bag in front of Owen. Owen then vomited for the next 5 minutes while I could only watch in disbelief. 

Finally. Finally. We were allowed to leave the plane and I was already swearing to myself that I would never fly again when I noticed that there were towels and bags all over the seats and aisles everwhere. We had sat towards the end of the plane and after passing several towels, I finally spot one that has leftovers on it. Puke! The people of this plane had been vomiting everywhere! We had to step over it and go around it all the way to the front. 

You know how when you are leaving the plane, the pilots and stewardesses are smiling and thanking you for flying with them? Not this time. Our flight crew all wore shell-shocked faces and couldn't form a coherent sentence much less muster up some thanks for having us fly with them.   

I don't know who had to clean up that plane, but I think they earned a bonus and a half that day. Once we were safely in the airport the boys finally broke their silence.

  Caleb: "Mommy, I am never, ever, ever flying in an airplane again."
  Owen: "I want Grandma and Grandpa to drive down and pick us up when it's time to go home."

I was all for Owen's idea but Mark vetoed it and said by the end of our time in Disneyland we would have forgotten all about our plane ride that was bathed in throw-up. Whatever - trust me. The memory was emblazened in my mind and it would rear it's ugly and smelly head again later in the summer when it was time for me to fly to Europe.

But that's another story for another time. Happy flying everyone!