gulp.

Traveling.

If you've been around here for very long at all you know that I get just a wee wittle worked up about traveling. I told myself when I had Rainer that I would not travel until he was at least 8 months old. I figured by then I'd be home free, well on my way to the one-year-postpartum magical mark of wellness. When Solo was a baby I flew internationally with him five times by the time he was one. Travel became a huge anxiety and insomnia trigger for me. It didn't take long to figure that one out.

Well.

One of my very best friends is getting married in Oregon, and I wouldn't miss it for the world. So, come Saturday I will be attempting to get on a very small plane with a 4 month old, a 3 year old, a giant stroller, a kiddo backpack, a mama backpack, and the hopes that our luggage is beneath the plane safe and sound.

I tend to overanalyze scenarios in my mind when I near travel day. For instance, what do I do if Rainer poops and I have to go to the itsy bitsy bathroom to change him, do I leave Solo alone or do the three of us squeeze into said itsy bitsy bathroom? Or what if our second flight gets cancelled and we are stranded in Houston? Me, alone with two kids, no carseats, no cell phone? And what do I do if one of us gets deathly ill between now and Saturday? And what if I can't sleep and I lay in bed having a panic attack? Then what??? Worry much?

I'm trying to heed my own advice and stay.in.the.moment. One moment at a time. Deal with the scenarios as they happen. It's much easier said than done. If I have to take a sedative to sleep Friday night, then so be it. If I have to ask strangers for help, then they better be nice. If our flights are delayed then we will play. If I am exhausted by the time we get to Portland (guaranteed) then I will hand my children to my parents, and I will sleep.

And sooner or later, the wheels of the plane will touch the ground and we will all have survived.