A couple of our extremely television savvy viewers messaged me, asking where I was this past weekend.
You see, it's November. A ratings period. Anchors don't usually take off during the so-called "sweeps" period.
Well... they do in the case of a family emergency:
My husband's grandmother passed away last week and we had to travel to her funeral in New Jersey.
Which meant a plane ride with the kids... a first for my five-month-old son Noah.
My seven-year-old is a wonderful traveler. Always has been. But I wasn't so sure how my baby would handle high altitude. I've heard terrible stories about babies' eardrums popping on planes leading to loud and frantic meltdowns. I really didn't want to be that mother desperately trying to calm her cranky baby.
And what to pack for my little guy? You know they dribble their way through countless bibs and onesies, or have superpoops that can leak halfway up their backs.
My cost-conscious husband laid down the law early --- our family would check only one bag, since the airline was demanding we now pay for it. So I loaded our luggage up with all the baby accoutrements known to man --- onesies, blankets, bibs, burb cloths, sweaters, rattles, washclothes and bottles...
And stuff for the seven-year-old --- books, her own blanket, outfits, backup outfits and matching shoes, socks and ribbons.
I threw a few things for myself and ran out of space. My husband had to pack a separate duffle bag for himself.
So how was the flight? Surprisingly good! The baby was peaceful, the seven-year-old read to herself and watched her DVD. My husband and I congratulated ourselves on having such wonderful kids.
Sorry if you're gagging. I can hardly believe it myself.
But for two busy people with barely a moment to spare.... I thank God that I've been blessed with such easygoing kids.
I can only hope they stay this way forever.
