My son once cried the entire 4 hour red eye flight from Anchorage to Seattle. He was 10 months old ( old enough to know better, said the glares) and not one person offered even so much as a sympathetic word or gesture. Add to that my five year old daughter, just old enough to not be able to sleep through the apocalypse anymore but not yet old enough to sit through a movie without needing to pee 6 times, and you have the perfect recipe for a lifelong airplane defender of moms flying alone with kids. I offer assistance before we take off, no matter where they are seated. So they know the whole flight they have someone in their corner. And I am not afraid to viciously shame anyone who overtly causes them grief.

Omg it infuriates me.

When we flew to my dad’s funeral in March, since it was last minute we didn’t get seated together. They had to find a way to seat the little one with me but my daughter is 14 and can travel solo. I asked the man seated in the window seat if he would mind switching with my daughter so we could all be together on our way to the funeral. He said no, he had to have a window seat. It was pitch black, middle of the night. He never raised the window shade.

He also never got an armrest, or a chance to pee, and I made sure to turn my light on and off at odd intervals. You know, if ever he started to drift off.

Petty, perhaps.


Screw that guy.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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