Karma

Everyone knows that bragging about how good you are at something is a sure way to invite a testing of that skill into your life.

Tell everyone you're a great chef and you'll have a total flop at your next dinner party.

You're a master gardener?  Say hello to these killer beetles that will eat every plant you have.

Scream to the Interwebs that you are the most rockin-est jet setter with children ever and go ahead and plan for an 18 hour day at the airport.

With children who woke up at 3 am.

And let's throw an ear infection in there, just to keep you humble.

Since my Mom is a flight attendant, we almost always fly on passes.  

Which means our tickets are cheap, but we aren't guaranteed a spot on the flight of our choice.  When we booked our trip, the flights were wide open.  But apparently there are a lot of last minute planners out there.  

Who books their flight the night before they leave?!?!  

Y'all are killing my need to over plan.

We got on by the skin of our teeth flying up to Minnesota.  

They gave us 3 middle seats rows apart from each other and while the thought crossed my mind of how pleasant a 2 hour flight would be without my kids next to me would be, I worked up some tears and got some women to trade seats so I could corral my babies.

A couple of days before we planned to fly home, the flights started filling up.

And at 9 am the day before we were coming home, my Mom broke the news to me.  Only one flight with even a chance.  

And it leaves at 6.  

AM.

I did the math in record time.  We'd be getting up at 3 AM to make it to the airport.  A sane mother would put her kids to bed early for the smoothest morning possible, but I am not sane and I refused to give up my last night in Minnesota.  

3 AM came early, but we made it.

Just in time to realize that the flight was overbooked and there was no way we were getting home straight through to Atlanta.

Plan B had us flying out to Chicago around 9 then on to Atlanta at 7.  

PM.  

Like, 9 hours sitting in Chicago with my talkative 5 year old and my sick 2 year old.

I fought back tears and gave myself the ultimate pep talk.  

"You are a superstar traveler."  

"You are in control of your children (and your 4 bags, huge stroller, and carseat)."

"This is an adventure."

And you know what?

I am a superstar traveler and it turns out I am in control of my kids and all of our junk!  

The kids slept on the short flight to Midway and spent the rest of the day impressing the mess out of me.

18 hours spent inside airport walls with nothing but a few toys and a moving sidewalk for entertainment and the kids were perfect.

Like, they've never been more well behaved.

(Having fun on Hour 1)

(Josie played for an hour with a Polly Pocket, an apple, and a toothbrush)

(Gabe's toy of choice: His Bellybutton)

(Hour 14)

(New Airport Game: Keep Your Bag On The Line.  It's harder then it looks.)

(Hour 16: Rewards)

(Hour 18: Finally walking out of the Atlanta Airport)

Maybe it was the super early wake up call or maybe it was the fact that they knew they were stuck, but the day was, dare I say, pleasant.

The time went by pretty fast.  

I didn't hit exhaustion until I set eyes on my handsome husband, who dressed up in his most holey pj pants to pick us up.  

18 hours and not a single tear was shed and only one sock was lost.

Take that Karma.