Transparent Tuesdays

Issue 216: Hawaii

You guys,

Six bags, three suitcases, two car seats, two toddlers, one stroller. This is our airport checklist for a 12-day trip from North Carolina to Hawaii.

I used to dread these family excursions—the physical exhaustion of carrying tired toddlers, the absolute zero percent chance of writing time, the constant state of hyper alertness (Do we have everything, everyone??)—but this trip solidified a surprising truth: traveling with kids makes me a better traveler.  

First of all I hate flying. But it’s impossible to mull around in my hypothetical certain-death scenarios when we’re high in the sky and my 3-year-old looks at me with both palms facing up and exclaims, “Mama! We are on an airplane! We are flying to Hawaii RIGHT NOW!”

George has been talking about this trip every day for eight months since we booked our flight. Even on very little sleep because of the six-hour time difference he “can’t believe we’re here.” The excitement is everywhere: the elevators, the pirate ship at the pool, the rainbows, the rocks, the laundry room, the lizards, the sleeping bag on the floor. 

One night we attend a luau. It’s three hours long and goes past the kids’ bedtime. The performers cycle through multiple vibrant costume changes. They sing and dance and yell and bang drums. They throw fire sticks back and forth to each other. George and Layla sit mesmerized in their highchairs, their eyes locked on the stage the entire time. I also sit mesmerized in my chair, my eyes locked on the kids the entire time.   

We utilize a Maui nanny service and are paired with a young woman to watch the kids for a few hours on five of the seven days. During that time Sam has two work meetings and a surf lesson while I write a chapter of my book. We go kayaking together and out to two dinners. 

At dinner we don’t drink more than a glass of wine and decide this is the secret to traveling, and perhaps the secret to life. Vacations used to require another vacation upon returning home because we always drank too much and felt horrible for a week after. It’s only since becoming parents and limiting our alcohol intake because we are just too tired that we have begun to see how it’s impacting every other aspect of our lives. Traveling with kids makes us drink less, which makes us realize how much better life is without it.

On our seventh day in Hawaii I tell George that tomorrow we are flying back to LA. He gasps and claps his hands. Travel days are more exciting than vacation days.

We get a hotel near LAX and for the first time, all share one room—Sam and I in the bed, the kids in pack ‘n’ plays. I’m not looking forward to this arrangement. How will anyone sleep? George and Layla stand and talk to each other (“Layla? Are you awake?”) then proceed to scream the ABCs and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. We all can’t stop giggling. It’s a sleepover party.

On day twelve we take a shuttle to the airport at 5:30am. Six bags, three suitcases, two car seats, two toddlers, one stroller. We get off our first 4-four flight in Charlotte. There’s one more leg of our trip. A quick 36-minute flight to Wilmington. As we walk to our final gate Sam talks about how great all the travel went. We didn’t have any flight delays or anything.

Our flight is supposed to leave at 4:40pm. Three minutes before boarding we stand and wait for our Group Number to be called. It doesn’t get called. We wait and wait. They tell us we’re ready to go, we’re just waiting on the captain. They never delay the flight so every minute we think will be the minute we get on the plane. We depart an hour later.

As we approach Wilmington and start to descend the plane pulls up and circles the area. Bad weather has just come in, the captain tells us. He’ll circle for ten minutes and try again. Ten minutes later he tells us he can’t land. He’s taking us back to Charlotte. 

I think of my best laid plans for the evening. Pick up Chinese food on the way home and get the kids in bed by 8:30pm. Sam was just trying to keep Layla awake, all in the name of the sleep schedule. She’s a ball of mush in his lap. Now he lets her sleep and gently pats her head. 

George asks me what happened. I don’t hide my disappointment when I tell him the pilot couldn’t land. Sam leans across the aisle. 

“George!” he says, with a big smile on his face. “Guess what?!”

George beams at him. “What?” 

“We get to go on ANOTHER flight!”

George gasps. 

Sam is better at this than me. George is better at this than all of us.

We land back in Charlotte at 7:20pm and are asked to stay on the plane. They need to refuel. The captain lets us know that more bad weather is coming in to Wilmington. He’s not sure we will be able to take off. He’ll let us know as soon as he can. 

An hour later the captain is given the green light. We depart at 8:40pm. 

The skies are clear as we travel. We near Wilmington and start to descend and I hold my breath. The plane pulls back up. We’re circling. I look out my window and see dark clouds and lightning in the distance. Suddenly I feel like when I was a kid and my brother zipped me into a sleeping bag and dragged me around the house. I need to get out of here now. I can’t be on this plane any longer. I’m not sure what I will do or how I’ll react if we go back to Charlotte. 

Sam sent me a quote recently: “Suffering is an opportunity to behave well.” He reminds me of it now. This is an opportunity, he says. 

George looks out the window. “I really want to land, Mama,” he says. “Are we landing?” I tell him the captain wants to land the plane. He’s trying to. 

We move through some dark clouds. We hit turbulence. Suddenly we’re landing. I don’t believe it until the wheels hit pavement. 

Two minutes later, as we roll towards the gate, a slight sprinkle becomes a deafening downpour. A passenger behind us shows us the weather tracker on his phone. The storm is about to hit Wilmington from every angle. We just barely made it. 

At 10:00pm we wait at baggage claim. There’s a delay because of the storm. George and Layla happily eat raisins and a Clif bar. Sam can’t stop smiling. “Do you know how lucky we are?” he says. 

One final checklist at 10:30pm. Six bags, three suitcases, two car seats, two toddlers, one stroller. We’ve come a long way since our first flight as a family to St. Kitts two years ago when George stomped on the iPad and pulled out Sam’s leg hairs and Layla pooped through four plane outfits. We kept going on trips and we’ll keep going on trips, and our kids will show us the way. 

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Until next week,

Charlie