Back at it

Posted on August 13, 2015 by admin

Getting back into the swing of things after a long vacation is always hard. We’ve just recently done it once (getting back from our summer vacation, which I have yet to write about) and we’re facing our next round of it (because school starts in less than 2 weeks, which is a bummer). But it’s worse when the whole family is battling jet lag, as we were after our trip home over Christmas. Making matters even worse was that we had a really short turn-around before getting back to our usual routine.

We had planned to have the boys skip school for the first two days after we got back, returning to Vienna on Wednesday but not sending the boys back to school until the following Monday. But B ended up sick for large parts of November and December, and he missed so much school that we were worried about him missing more than is allowed, so we lost the option of keeping him home for any extra days. So instead, we left the US on Tuesday, arrived in Vienna on Wednesday, and B went back to school on Thursday. (L, who is still in preschool, can miss pretty much as much as we want, so he did stay home until the following Monday.)

We were all exhausted and felt totally dysfunctional.

The frist night we were back, L woke up 3 times overnight. The first time, I had no idea where I was and was worried I was going to wake my mom . . . who was still awake, because she was at home in Maryland. At 1:10 in the morning, B got up, out of bed, on his own (which is odd for him in any circumstances — he usually waits for us to come and tell him it’s time to get up), went through the entirely dark house to the living room, turned on all the lights, scared himself with thoughts of a giant, sinister snowman, and came running into our room crying. It took 2 hours to get him back to sleep.

After that charming night’s sleep, I found I had forgotten how to do EVERYTHING. I couldn’t remember how to pack B’s snack for school. I couldn’t remember how to get the boys dressed and out the door in any reasonable kind of time. I couldn’t remember what time I needed to leave the house to pick B up on time. And I certainly couldn’t remember how to communicate in German. My first attempt at post-vacation German resulted in the coffee guy immediately failing over to English despite my continued attempts to communicate in German.

It’s always a bumpy road back to “normal” after a long trip away. And sleep deprivation never helped anyone adjust any faster. Next time, I will do whatever I can to NOT have us jump right back into things as soon as we get back!

Another visit ends

Posted on August 12, 2015 by admin

All good things must come to an end, and so it was with our trip home for Christmas last year. Just like the year before, we got treated to a significant snowstorm the morning of our flight out, but unlike last year, I was mentally prepared for the possibility, so I was able to enjoy it a bit with the kids instead if just stressing about how wet everyone’s snow pants were getting. (Good thing, too, because we had another disappointing snow year in Vienna this past winter, so it was nice to get some kind of chance to play in the snow together.) And again, our flight was delayed (though not as badly as the previous year), but before too long we were trekking through the snow to the airport to return to Vienna.

I hate leaving. Every time. Doing it repeatedly does not make it easier. Our time here has gotten long — longer than any of us counted on — so leaving is hard, because part of me feels like we shouldn’t be leaving at all. But we did. With help from our family, clear and safe roads, and our boys, we collected up our things and prepared for another transatlantic journey.

Because of a different seating configuration on the plane, we sat differently than we usually do. Whenever possible, we sit in the middle of the plane, 4 across. When that isn’t possible, we sit 3 across at the window with one on the neighboring aisle. This particular plane had only 2 seats near the window, though, so Dan & B sat there, and L and I sat across the aisle in the middle section. No problem.

Except that it was a red-eye, and when it came time for sleeping, we had a problem. It’s never easy to do a red-eye with kids. No one ever enjoys sleeping on a plane, and kids can get progressively less adaptable as they get more tired. When my guys are a bit older, they might think it’s fun to stay up all night and watch movies as we fly over the ocean, but not yet. B leaned up against the window and fell asleep. Dan dozed next to him. Liam, with no window to lean on and no family member to bookend the other side of him, could just not get comfortable. We tried putting him on the aisle with me in the middle seat, and we tried me on the aisle and him in the middle. Whatever we tried, he ended up either sticking an appendage into the aisle or kicking the woman sitting next to him (the one that wasn’t me). He was so tired. He cried. He tried to lay on the floor of the plane. He could not get comfortable and he could not sleep. He finally dozed off, laying across me, for maybe 20 minutes when it was nearly “morning” (meaning it was still very much the middle of the night for us). I didn’t sleep at all. It was a rough flight.

But, it was at least fast. We didn’t know why at the time, but despite taking off about 15 minutes late, we landed in London over an hour early. (We later discovered that our flight was able to take advantage of unusually strong upper level tail winds — we were traveling at over 700 mph!) Arriving early in London wasn’t as much of a benefit as it might have been, though — we were to have had a 5 hour layover at Heathrow, which would now be over 6. With a very tired family, it was a bit of a daunting proposition.

Other than rare occasions when we get a direct flight to the US, we usually connect through Heathrow or Charles du Gaulle. I don’t love either option. Both are huge airports which require commuting between distant terminals for international connections. I don’t mind flying TO those airports, but I don’t like flying THROUGH either one. This time, though, I learned to love Heathrow a little more.

We were lucky to discover that in the terminal we’d be flying out of (some 6+ hours after we arrived) there was a “Family Lounge”. We didn’t know exactly what that meant, but we decided to find out. It turns out that it was a spacious set of rooms outfitted for kids of all ages, and only accessible to people actually travelling with children. They had comfy places to sit, an indoor play area (full of foam-rubber covered obstacles to play on), a nap/quiet room and a game room with TV and foosball (for older kids). There was also a coffee machine for the grown ups. It was EXACTLY what we needed. Not only were the kids able to both run around and rest as they needed, but we were free from the typical airport worry that we were bothering any of the other travellers.

The kids started out by running around, climbing on the equipment and playing with the other kids who were waiting. Eventually, Liam layed down in the nap room for some much needed rest, and we were able to charge our phones, connect to the wi-fi, and let the kids play games on the iPad while we waited. It gave us some peace and relaxation during a very long day of travel (and has bumped Heathrow up to my most favorite airport to connect through).

The best part about flying back to Vienna from the States is that by the time we get on that second flight back to Vienna, we’re almost home. That last little flight feels so short in the overall scheme of the entire trip, so it’s not so daunting. It was another long day of travel, with another transatlantic journey accomplished, but we made it back “home” from another great trip Home.

To Grandmother’s House

Posted on July 9, 2015 by admin

I’ve completely lost count of our transatlantic journeys as a family. I actually just tried to count, and can’t quite resolve the trips in my head anymore. I *think* we’ve taken 4 round-trip transatlantic trips together, plus the one-way trip that brought us here (or, if you like, you can think of that as the round-trip we just haven’t completed yet) but I could be missing one. So, we’ve done at least 9 transatlantic flights together as a family, and though I’m not sure we’re experts, we’re certainly pretty well experienced. (I mean, seriously. My kids have each made at least 9 transatlantic flights so far. I was 37 before I could say that.) But all of our experience does very little to mitigate the unscripted insanity that invariably awaits us every time we do it. Every trip has been a little different, and each one has presented its own challenges. It is, as I often say, always an adventure.

In the past, we’ve usually (always?) flown direct from Vienna to Washington or stopped in Paris. Direct is great, but pricey, and though Austrian Airlines is pretty wonderful, their planes are not always the most comfortable. Last year, we opted to fly through Charles de Gaulle in Paris so that we could fly to Washington on the new A380 — the gigantic, double-decker plane. I said I wanted to try it out because I thought it would be fun for the kids, but the truth is that my years working in aviation left me as kind of a plane nerd and *I* really wanted to try it out.

It was great — comfortable, quiet and convenient, and Air France has stellar service. But Charles de Gaulle is a headache of an airport, and no matter how long we allow for a connection there (we’ve connected through Paris in the past, flying to other European destinations) we always end up running for the plane, which is a crummy beginning to a trip. (Last year was no exception.)

So this year, I thought we’d try something a little different. I was fine with connecting through Paris, but I wanted to allow more time than last year, and I wasn’t set on it being anywhere in particular. As it turned out, the A380 now flies between Washington and Heathrow, too. We’ve had some decent experiences at Heathrow before, and it’s a bonus that people in London speak English. Sold! We booked our tickets with a connection through Heathrow.

We had no delays getting from Vienna to Heathrow, so I expected than having nearly 2 hours to get to our next plane would be no problem. Ha! I had never realized that connecting from intra-European travel to transatlantic travel at Heathrow makes it every bit as much of a headache as connecting through Charles de Gaulle. It was not pleasant.

We had to wait for a shuttle bus which ran only every 15 minutes, and which took 20 minutes to get to its destination. Which sounds fine, except that the entire flight of people from Vienna had to get on the shuttle, and we had to wait through 3 rounds of shuttle buses before we got on. Then we had to go through security again, and there were insanely long lines. When we finally got to the front of the line, we were told that Liam’s antibiotic (remember how we were all sick for most of December?) couldn’t clear security. Huh??? No, really. It couldn’t go through because nowhere on the bottle did it say how bit it was (though it was, quite clearly, the same 100 mL size as the children’s ibuprofen we had — which DID say 100 mL on the bottle, so that was clear to go). Apparently, it would have been ok if we’d had the doctor’s written prescription with us (but we didn’t), even though it was in its original bottle from the pharmacy, all official-looking and everything. I explained that antibiotics are the kind of medicine where it’s very bad if you miss a dose. I offered to take some of the medicine. I offered to let them gas chromatograph it. I asked Dan to find someone to call our gate and tell them we were coming while I pleaded with the (not unsympathetic, but unbudging) security guy. Our flight was due to take off in less than 15 minutes, and we still had a shuttle train to take. We had to choose between leaving the medicine and running for our flight, or staying to argue about the medicine and getting on a later plane. We ran. (Again.)

I’m not exaggerating when I say that by the time we left security, we had just over 10 minutes to get to our gate. I was 95% certain we were going to miss our plane. I figured that, at least, our seats had been given away to someone on standby at this point. We ran, flat out, to the train terminal. We ran, flat out to the gate. We arrived, with about 90 seconds to spare before departure time. The gate agent said that the only reason our seats weren’t given away is that so many people had missed their connections that there were more open seats than standby passengers. He told us that if we hadn’t called from security to say we were coming, they would have left without us. We were the last people across the jetway, they closed the door as soon as we were through it, and we were still walking down the (admittedly very long) aisle when the plane pushed back. We were red-faced, sweaty, stressed, exhausted and without antibiotic, but we made our flight. (So much for not repeating the experience we had the year before!) I wanted to email our pediatrician, to ask if she could email or fax a replacement prescription, but between the dash for the plane and the actual takeoff, there was not a single moment to do it.

The kids were great. Though it’s not great that we keep ending up in that situation, they’re at least getting used to it, and they know that it’s not a calamity. (Besides, they’re getting bigger, so they’re getting pretty fast!) The rest of the flight was relatively uneventful. The boys are definitely getting more and more accustomed to long flights. The service on British Airways was as good as Air France (though the configuration of the plane was slightly less comfortable).

And it was so, so wonderful to see our family again when we arrived. That is the absolute BEST feeling about being abroad — how magical it feels to come home again. There are all of these wonderful people that you miss SO much, and then you get to see them, and they’re just as happy to see you as you are to see them, and they don’t care too much what state you’re in when you arrive. It is the BEST. (And, we got to meet our new nephew/cousin!!!!)

But after we gave hugs and kisses, collected our things, packed everything up, got to my mom’s house and got semi-settled in . . . we still had the antibiotic to deal with.

By the time we got to Maryland, it was late at night in Vienna, so I couldn’t reach our pediatrician (though I left her a message). We had no recourse, except to go to a 24 hour pharmacy and beg for them to give us a single dose of amoxicillin (we figured we could come back with an emailed prescription in the morning, but we didn’t want him to miss a dose). If at all possible, we didn’t want to have to take poor, exhausted Liam to the ER or an urgent care place to get them to write a new prescription that night. I discovered that, randomly, I’d taken a picture of the prescription when the doctor gave it to us (I have no idea why — I never do that) so Dan was able to take that with him to the pharmacy. (It’s too bad that I didn’t realize I had that at Heathrow — he might have let us through with that.)

When Dan went to the pharmacy, he explained the situation. We were fortunate that the pharmacist was as outraged by the fact that the antibiotic had been confiscated as we were, and he refilled the entire prescription for us, based just on the picture from my phone. And so, just 22 hours after leaving our apartment in Vienna, after running through the airport, going over the ocean and through the hassle of getting Liam’s medicine, we were, finally, tucked in, safe and sound, at Grandma’s house.

The shortest day ever

Posted on March 21, 2014 by admin

I have this habit of leaving off pieces of the adventures we take when I recount the stories. Ever since I stopped writing the blog WHILE I was traveling (to allow it to feel like more of a vacation) I’ve found that I get back, start to write about it, and then life happens and I get caught up writing about something new that is happening at that moment, which means that I often don’t quite finish telling the stories of our travels.

I want to get caught up, so I’m going to plan to spend at least a day each week catching up on old stories that have yet to be told.

The snowstorm that came at the end of our trip home to the US for Christmas was a ton of fun for the kids (and I’m extra glad they got to experience it since we barely got any snow this year in Vienna). But the other result was that our return flight ended up significantly delayed, which made for kind of a crazy day all around.

I have to give Air France a ton of credit for how well they kept us informed about the developments with our flight. I woke up the morning of our departure with both a text and an email waiting for me about the initial rescheduling of our flight. Because we had nearly 12 hours notice, we were able to relax, enjoy an extra few hours with family and let the kids play in the snow a bit more. They also seamlessly took care of rearranging our connection each of the several times the flight was pushed back a little later, which let us spend our last day packing and enjoying instead of stressing (overly much) about how we were going to get home.

Late that night, we finally headed to the airport (with much gratitude and sad goodbyes to so much of our family who drove us over there) to wait for a while longer in an effectively closed airport. When we’d first planned the flight, a 7 pm departure seemed perfect. Take off, have dinner, and then everyone sleeps (in theory). My boys generally do well on overnight flights, so I was more worried about the flight over than I was about the flight back.

But with the departure moved back to just after 2 am, I didn’t know what to expect. Waiting at the gate was hard. We put the boys in their pajamas (because, realistically, it was after midnight, and sleep was likely). Liam fell asleep. B tried to sleep on the floor (unsuccessfully) after seeing several other people try it. He eventually gave up and wandered over to watch a video over the shoulder of a little French girl who then invited him to come and share her seat. (That was one of my favorite moments of the journey. I was really proud to see B be brave enough to make a friend — and extra points because they did not share a common language. I count this confidence as one of the many good things that have come of this adventure.)

We finally got on the plane and got underway. The airline dutifully served dinner (at about 3 am) and then got us all ready for “nighttime” just as the first rays of the sun were becoming visible on the horizon (they requested that everyone keep their window shades down so that everyone could sleep if they chose to). They turned the lights on and served breakfast at about noon (that’s CET — it was then about 6 pm where we had departed, Eastern time). By the time we landed, it was evening in Paris, the middle of the night in Maryland, and the kids, who had slept in short bursts throughout the flight, were confused and alarmed that the sun was setting just after breakfast. (“Why is the sun setting ALREADY?!? That was the shortest day ever!” We effectively spent 30+ hours in the dark, which created some of the worst jet lag I’ve ever experienced.)

We were exhausted, we were disoriented, we missed the rest of our family already, but we were home (again).

The end of the weekend

Posted on January 28, 2014 by admin

Even though I had an absolutely amazing weekend exploring London and generally being a geeky fangirl, I was excited enough to get home to my guys to not mind getting up at 4 a.m. (Not too much, anyway).

I had a great time on the girls’ weekend. I was shocked at how long it took me to unwind, to turn off the ultra-aware, persistently vigilant Mommy brain and remember how to just relax and enjoy myself. I think this time away was overdue. I think it’s something I could use to do more often than once every 5 years.

And we couldn’t have picked a better spot for it. I love London. I would live there. I don’t feel that way about very many places, but I would absolutely live there (and probably spend way too much going to the “theatre” at every opportunity).

The morning of my departure, it was far too early for me to contemplate things like trains, so I opted for the vastly easier (but much more expensive) option of a cab. I had a nice chat with the driver on our way out to Heathrow — he’s the dad to one daughter, now all grown up, and insisted that mom having a weekend away from dad and the kids truly is good for everyone.

Heathrow is intense, even at 5 in the morning. Coming up to the airport, I was surprised to already see the line of plane lights in the sky, stretching off into the distance. (What time do those flights depart wherever they’re coming from?!?) I was also please to see how efficient Heathrow was — I was able to check myself in, print my own luggage tags and easily make my way to the gate (where, as a slightly odd security measure, I had to show my passport again to enter the gate area) to wait for my flight home.

I had a pleasant and comfortable flight home (British Airways is as good as Air France was on our recent trip home) and I spent part of the time contemplating people.

I think people are great. I love how we help each other. How we’re basically kind. The cabbie, the check-in people, the other assorted staff at the airport. No one has to be nice to each other, but most people generally are. I love how we build and invent things, like air planes, like London. I love how creative human beings are — theater, movies, storytelling. It’s amazing what we do and who we are. I love people.

And, on that note, it was time to return home to the people I love very most of all.

Girls’ weekend begins . . .

Posted on January 23, 2014 by admin

I actually thought I might vomit before I could leave the house last Friday. Part of it was anxiety about the trip — I tend to worry much more than is called for over missing buses, planes and trains. Part of it was being uncomfortable with traveling alone — as much as I’m a well-seasoned European traveller (this would be my third time to London), I’ve only travelled a very little bit on my own. But most of it was worry, stress and sadness at the thought of leaving my boys for just over 65 hours. I’m just not used to it.

It was my first trip away from Liam, and my first trip away from anyone since we’ve been in Austria. I’m actually a little grateful for my over-anxiousness about missing my flight. Without it, I might not have overcome the paralysis I was feeling about actually going. Eventually, my stress over missing my flight overwhelmed my stress about leaving the kids, so I was able to actually go.

Within the first half hour I was away (I hadn’t even caught the bus to the airport yet) I was stunned. I had so much downtime. What was I supposed to do with myself? For most of the trip to the airport, I just sat and looked out of the window. I have lost all of my habits for idle time — most of the time I’m with the kids or attending to something pressing, and in the few moments I actually have “free”, there’s always at least SOMETHING that needs my attention (outlining my next blog post, sending cute pictures of the kids to my family, making a grocery list, planning our next outing). I had nothing that I had to do. No errands to run, nothing that needed my attention, no endless questions to answer, no one to keep entertained, no one to shush or calm down or keep safe. It was really weird. I had no one to talk to and lots of time on my own. I truly did not know what to do with myself (and I’d been out of the house for less than an hour).

I adjusted. It took a while to even think of reading, watching a movie on my phone, or listening to music. Once I was able to get used to actually being able to focus on something for leisure, it was really pleasant (but still, there was no place I would rather have been right at that moment than home getting ready for movie night with my family). The flight was great, and eventually I stopped jumping to attention every time a child on the plane would cry. It actually became pretty pleasant to snap out of my focus on my book only to remember that my kids were at home and I could go right back to reading — a little like waking up before the alarm in the morning and getting to enjoy snuggling back into bed for a while.

On my own, I had a lot more time for random thought, too. Standing in the forever-long “all other passports” UK Border line, I contemplated what passport control must be like for moderately famous people. I imagine they have to wait in the same line as everyone else (unless they’re SUPER famous and this disruptive to the process, then maybe there’s some other provision), which must be awful. I figure they’d get bothered, asked for autographs or whatever, but there would be nothing they could do to get away! That must be even worse than just waiting through the line as a regular person, which isn’t any fun, either. (This is what happens to my mind when I don’t have kids to entertain, apparently.) Also, I spent a little time contemplating how/why people can’t tell where I’m from. I had a British person think I was British (after talking to me?!?) on the plane and a woman in the Customs line came up and spoke to me in an impressive stream of Russian — then, after seeing my confusion, apologized in fluent English, saying she thought I was Russian, too.

It was odd to be on my own — not just being an off-duty mom, but being completely solo on my journey. It was strange to not have anyone to coordinate with. When my train from the airport was delayed by an hour and a half, I didn’t have anyone to hash out an alternate plan with, nor to pass the time with. And when I finally made it to Victoria Station after midnight, there was no one with whom to debate the various merits of taking a cab or the subway, so I got to decide on my own. (After midnight, raining, with luggage and not 100% sure where I was going — I opted for a cab, and I think it was the best £10 I spent the whole trip.)

I made it, all on my own, from Vienna to London. I managed to remember how to read a book on a plane, hail a cab and watch TV in a hotel room (that wasn’t a cartoon). The trip was going great already, and the really fun stuff hadn’t even started yet!

Girls’ weekend in London

Posted on January 17, 2014 by admin

I interrupt my heartfelt reminiscing about our Christmas at home … with a trip to London! This evening I’ll be flying over to meet a friend for a girls’ weekend. We’re going to see a show, take in as many sights as we can, do the Harry Potter tour and probably have a pint in an actual pub (though Pam will probably opt for a glass of wine).

It is my very first time doing anything like this since I’ve been a mom. It will be the first time I’ve ever spent the night away from Liam, and the first time I’ve ever been away from either of them overnight just for fun (I came to Vienna from the US for a weekend before we decided to move here — before Liam was born — and was away from B overnight when Liam was born). So this is really strange for me.

I’m half thrilled and half anxious. I’m struggling to comprehend traveling on my own and am already feeling how much I’m going to miss my boys. I can’t wait to see my good friend and explore an exciting city together and I’m hoping the boys have so much fun having their guys’ weekend with Dan that they barely notice I’m gone. This all feels very grown up and sophisticated. There’s really no way to say, “I’m meeting a girlfriend in London for the weekend” without sounding very fancy. But I don’t *feel* more grown up or fancier than usual, so it does seem a bit strange.

It’s a little weird to me that I’m going so far away for my first weekend away. But I think that’s because it’s an international flight — really, though, it’s only a 2 1/2 hour trip. I’m not actually going that far. In a way, it’s probably good that there’s a plane ride between me and my boys — it will help to discourage any middle of the night urges to just go home (though I do expect that the desire will still surface).

The boys keep asking who is coming to stay with them. We keep reassuring them that Dan will be here the whole time. At first, I thought they were confused (why would Mommy go and Daddy stay?) but I got the impression today at lunch that they understand just fine that it’s only me who is going — they just want to know who ELSE is coming to take care of them. They keep asking if our downstairs neighbor (our regular babysitter) is coming over to take care of them (which came from a conversation where Dan & I were discussing that she’s offered to be “on call” in case he needs help at any point). They just can’t seem to quite accept that it’s going to be JUST them and Daddy this weekend. (That’s ok — I’m not sure I can quite accept it either!)

So off I go to live it up for 62 hours in London. I’m sure we’re going to have a great time and make some fantastic memories. I guess it’s the consequence of being a mom, but some of the things I’m looking forward to the most are some of the simplest — sleeping all night (maybe even sleeping past 7:00 in the morning!) and being able to choose restaurants based on what I want to eat. That, plus spending time with a good friend, should make it an excellent weekend. (It remains to be seen whether I’ll be able to relax, or if I’ll spend the majority of the time worrying about what’s happening at home!)

Our journey home (for the holidays)

Posted on January 13, 2014 by admin

I was a little apprehensive, after a year and a half of only relatively short flights with the kids, about our very long trips home and back across the Atlantic. Circumstance (and winter weather) meant delays — long hours waiting on the plane or at the airport — which didn’t make it any easier. Even so, I was pleasantly surprised at how well we all fared on our journey.

Before we even got underway on our trip to the US, we saw something at the Vienna airport that I’d never seen before (and wouldn’t even have thought possible). While we were waiting in line to check our stroller at the oversize luggage line (we opted to check the stroller at check-in, since the boys were riding their Trunkis) we saw that the woman ahead of us was waiting to drop off … a Christmas tree! Surely, you can’t check a Christmas tree as luggage?!? But apparently, you can, because that’s just what she did. The luggage guy did look a bit surprised, but he checked that it was tagged with a destination and accepted it. Amazing! Although I wish I had a) taken a picture, b) found out the destination (wouldn’t there be import restrictions on trees?) and c) been able to see how well it came out at the other end!

The first leg of our flight was delayed due to the inbound flight from Paris being delayed before departure, and then further delayed (once we were on board) due to de-icing. All of which resulted in an eventual dash through Charles de Gaulle once we landed in order to make our connection. I was quite certain our bags wouldn’t move as quickly as we had and that we would arrive in Washington without them.

Not to worry, though, because even after the lengthy boarding process for our plane, there was, evidently, a chip of paint off of the rudder which had to be inspected prior to departure, which resulted in us sitting on the plane, but not moving, for almost 2 hours.

Although that’s always a bummer (although not as much of a bummer as it would be to fly in a plane that wasn’t working properly) we were stuck on the A380 with Air France and, as it turns out, it’s about the best plane it is possible to be stuck on.

Not only is the plane itself incomparably cool (it’s a double-decker with a spiral staircase in back, and each seat has its own on-demand entertainment system) but Air France made it as comfortable as possible by handing out the headphones early and providing snacks. We had games to play and movies and TV shows to watch PLUS we could have charged our iPhones and iPad at our seat if we’d needed to — all of which was a recipe for happy kids (and thus, happy parents) during the delay.

Once we got on our way, flying on the A380 was a little weird. It’s so big that rolling down the runway for takeoff, it felt impossible that we would ever get going fast enough to get off the ground. And then, when it was finally flying, it was surprisingly quiet for something so big.

The trip went very well, and the kids were great. Any worry I had about how they would do was unwarranted. They were amazingly patient, got along well together, and behaved beautifully. Liam had a bit of a crying spell after waking up from a nap (actually, he woke up because we were landing and had to be moved out of Dan’s lap, where he was quite comfortable, into his own seat, which he objected to), but I could hardly blame him for that. (After all, he’s *3* and he just accomplished his 6th and 7th intercontinental journeys. Pretty impressive, really.) In the days leading up to the trip, we gave the kids 3 rules for flying. We’ve said similar things before, but never quite so simply. 1. Whenever the seatbelt sign is on, you have to wear your seatbelt. No exceptions. 2. No kicking the back of the seat in front of you. 3. No yelling. That was it. We reminded them of these rules often in the week before the trip, and it really seemed to do the trick — all we had to do was remind them of the “airplane rules” and they remembered. (Must not forget that for future trips . . . )

The flight was long, and the delays at the beginning took their toll on all of our patience in the last few hours. We had a good journey, though, helped by comfy accommodations, the fascination the kids had with the in-flight moving map display (did you know the outside air temperature at 39,000 feet is -86 F?), lots of electronic entertainment, a few coloring books and stories and many trips up and down the spiral staircase. It was a really pleasant flight. (And I would definitely recommend everything about flying Air France — I wish we’d tried it sooner.)

After a LONG day of travel (over 18 hours, counting the delays and the car travel) and a seemingly endless line at Customs, we were reunited with our family, many of whom we had not seen in over a year and a half. It made every moment in the air more than worth it. It was so very good to see them, and so good to be home for the holidays.

A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Posted on December 19, 2013 by admin

Tomorrow we’re off to the States for two weeks to spend the holiday with family (and hopefully some friends, too, if the schedule allows). I am beyond excited to see my family tomorrow — some of whom I haven’t seen in almost a year and a half.

My plan is to take a break from writing, from the Internet, from posting pictures until we return to Austria in the new year. So I’ll say Merry Christmas now, and wish everyone a beautiful season full of wonder and a new year of hope and excitement.

See you in 2014 for more adventures!

Transatlantic

Posted on December 17, 2013 by admin

It’s been a while since we’ve done this. We travel a good bit as a family — in the past year we’ve taken the train to go skiing in the Alps and then the overnight train to Rome, flown to Paris and to the UK and Ireland, and driven to Salzburg and back. The kids are seasoned travelers, and we’re experience travel-parents. We’ve got a lot of miles under our collective belts.

But … we haven’t done this in a while. We haven’t done the 9+ hours transatlantic flight in almost a year and a half, we’ve never done it with a 5 year old and a 3 year old, and we’ve never done it at Christmas. Liam doesn’t even remember the last time we made this trip. With all of my experience with this kind of thing, I’m surprised, but I feel a little unprepared. I feel like I’ve forgotten how to do it.

What do I need in carry-on? What do I need to be prepared for? What do I need to tell the kids to prepare them? How is it going to go? Will they behave/sleep/scream/throw food/refuse to use the airplane toilet? The wiser part of my mind tells me it will be what it will be and that this is one of the (many) experiences in parenting that I cannot truly control. My experience tells me that this trip, like all of the others, will include good and bad elements, and that as long as we arrive safe & sound, all will be well and the less pleasant details of the journey will drift into the corners of my memory. But still, I feel a little nervous.

But even with the nervousness, I also feel excited. Not only are we flying home to see family and friends, but whatever happens, however it goes, I get to spend 9+ hours with my kids, with nothing else that we have to do. Sure, it might end up being a grueling trip, but we get to be together. With the boys in school now, a chance to be with them — to color and talk and read and watch videos, without having to think about running errands or keeping on our schedule — is pretty rare, and pretty exciting.

I’ve also discovered, in preparing for this trip, that packing for a Christmas trip is really a whole different undertaking than packing for a typical 2 week trip. I set about doing most of the packing this morning — getting the clothes together, figuring out which luggage will work best, making piles of laundry still to be done. After getting about 90% of our clothes packed into the suitcases (the rest is still to be washed), I felt quite accomplished. For a normal trip, that’s the vast majority of the work. I was feeling pretty proud about having most of the work done on Tuesday for a trip that doesn’t happen until Friday! And then, I started adding in the Christmas stuff. The stockings, the presents, the treats and sweets. And, oh my, did that ever increase the complexity of the situation. So many of the Christmas things need to be packed “just so” in order to arrive safely. Each item I tried to add to the clothes and accessories already packed required nearly unpacking the suitcase to get everything back in. And I”m not nearly done yet. I’ve probably only packed half of the gifts. Yikes.

The moral of the story is that instead of insisting on bringing truly Austrian things home for everyone for Christmas this year, I should have opted for mail-order. And, for the first time in a while, I feel almost like a rookie traveller again . . . or at least list an uncertain one. I know it will all work though, it always does. That’s the miracle of the last-minute trip preparation, and the miracle of Christmas preparation. With both of them on my side, everything is bound to come together.

A Mommy Abroad

Our big adventure, as a family of three.

Tag Archives: air travel