Try flying alone and pregnant with two kids under 4 with one little boy who can only be occupied by an activity that involves sitting for no longer than 10 seconds, unless you have food. Then it's a whopping 15. I even timed him eating a lollipop. It was 2.8 minutes and that's basically about as long as it takes to back up the dang 757 out of the gate.
Seriously, give me a live roach, hell, I'll eat 12 and you can fly with my kids today and then stay alone with my in-laws until Saturday while my husband goes to a pilot training graduation for some dude he doesn't know in Oklahoma.
But shit, it's all worth it because I get to take a big huge bite out of this little thing. Or actually, I probably won't get a chance thanks to the above-mentioned son who has really taken well to biting.
Do they have college scholarships for that?
So here's hoping for an empty plane. I'll let you know how long it takes him to consume a bag of jelly bellies or for me to do a Rachel Weisz and slug a few back, and I shall soon return with a Mominatrix column about what my diseased husband called my boobs the other day.
Hint: It did not get him laid.
On a perkier note (ahem), here's my daughter's latest gem.
"The Table Dancer"
[Don't ask why my 3.8 year old is drawing table dancers, but the body positioning and the Edward Scissorhands kills me every time]