When I'm not occupied with images of clothes (the girls' and mine) and giddy with excitement to be in New York again, I have moments of panic. You see, this three hour flight will be the first the girls will ride on a plane. How in the world are we going to survive being confined in our seats on a loud and never-before-experienced airplane? (And how in the world did my parents do it so frequently with my sister and me?)
While I am in the bed hyperventilating about the flight, Adam is next to me having nightmares about the wedding ceremony. Because I am so honored to be my sister's matron of honor (even though I'm married I swear it sounds better to be the maid of honor), Adam will be stuck wrangling the two little flower girls who will most likely not be cooperating and sweetly walking down the aisle. Also most likely not sitting quietly and ever-so-angelically through the matrimonial proceedings.
I'm sure that once we survive the flight (we will survive the flight, right?) my anxiety will transfer to the two-year-old's and four-year-old's behavior for the big wedding weekend. (Because that's how I roll too. What's next to worry about? Got it.) But I can't look that far ahead. The flight anxiety is enough for now.
Mostly I'm happy to obsess about the details -- the clothes to buy, the toys (distractions) to bring, the fun to be had. If you have any though, I sure wouldn't mind air travel tips with little ones. Otherwise I'll just pack my brown paper bag. You know, for breathing into as my children scream and cry and get us kicked off the plane.