;)
Tuesday
Jul202010
Learning To Fly
The first time I got on an airplane, I was an unaccompanied minor. Except that back then, there really wasn't anything called 'unaccompanied minors' and I was accompanied by my older brother and my two very little siblings. Eddie sat way up somewhere else on the plane and I sat with J & J, making sure they ate their Kudos bars and didn't spill their many airplane-sized cups of soda.
Eventually, they just gave us the cans. You can get anything on an airplane if you whine enough.
I never did fly with an adult in all the times I've flown back and forth, Philly to Denver, parent-hopping my way through my childhood. And that never seemed like an issue at all; I mean, it's getting on a plane, sitting down for three hours and getting off the plane - not rocket science. I was 13 whole years old, I knew everything, and I found flying to be intoxicating.
Now, actually flying the plane is a little bit like rocket science, and since I always loved flying so much, when I had the opportunity, I learned how to fly them myself. I have yet to find anything as exhilarating and freeing and close to godly as piloting an airplane. Maybe I haven't done much with my life, maybe I've never seen the world, maybe I've never even seen Detroit, but at least I've flown airplanes.
But the problem, for me at least, with knowing how to fly the airplane is that now I know every single thing that can go south, literally, when trying to keep a few tons of metal aloft. Knowing how to do it took the magic out of it for me, and made me the world's worst airplane passenger. Learning how to drive made me the world's worst auto passenger, too. Really, ask my husband. My complete inability to sit in the passenger seat and not completely freak the fuck out has almost driven that poor man to the divorce lawyer.
I think that if I'd just not learned how to fly an airplane, I wouldn't be sitting here right now shivering inside while my husband sits at a gate with our sons, waiting to load them up on a plane and send them to Denver for two weeks. I wouldn't be going through all the worst case scenarios in my head, if only I didn't know what they are. I wouldn't be worrying about whether or not they can get oxygen masks over their faces, or whether or not they will whine their way into cans of Sprite.
Or maybe I would. Maybe I would because those are my babies, and they're going 1500 miles away from me, where I won't be there if someone falls off a bike and scrapes their knees, where I can't come get them if it turns out that they don't still get along with the best friends they left behind four years ago when we left Denver. That powerless feeling I get every time I buckle my seat belt and put my tray table up for take-off isn't much different from the powerless feeling I'm getting sending my sons into the world on their own for two weeks.
But I guess the best things in life are the ones that leave you feeling helpless - like motherhood, like launching yourself through clouds and over mountains, like letting go. I never knew how to see the world until I saw it from a few thousand feet up, and maybe I don't know how to see my kids for the little men that they are until I see them from a few thousand miles away. I guess it's time to let them go. I supposed I have to let them go, and trust that I taught them how to put mud on a bee sting and ask politely for sodas and behave even when I'm not watching.
It took me a while, but I learned how to fly. It's taking me a while, but I'm trying to learn how to give my kids wings, too.
Eventually, they just gave us the cans. You can get anything on an airplane if you whine enough.
I never did fly with an adult in all the times I've flown back and forth, Philly to Denver, parent-hopping my way through my childhood. And that never seemed like an issue at all; I mean, it's getting on a plane, sitting down for three hours and getting off the plane - not rocket science. I was 13 whole years old, I knew everything, and I found flying to be intoxicating.
Now, actually flying the plane is a little bit like rocket science, and since I always loved flying so much, when I had the opportunity, I learned how to fly them myself. I have yet to find anything as exhilarating and freeing and close to godly as piloting an airplane. Maybe I haven't done much with my life, maybe I've never seen the world, maybe I've never even seen Detroit, but at least I've flown airplanes.
But the problem, for me at least, with knowing how to fly the airplane is that now I know every single thing that can go south, literally, when trying to keep a few tons of metal aloft. Knowing how to do it took the magic out of it for me, and made me the world's worst airplane passenger. Learning how to drive made me the world's worst auto passenger, too. Really, ask my husband. My complete inability to sit in the passenger seat and not completely freak the fuck out has almost driven that poor man to the divorce lawyer.
I think that if I'd just not learned how to fly an airplane, I wouldn't be sitting here right now shivering inside while my husband sits at a gate with our sons, waiting to load them up on a plane and send them to Denver for two weeks. I wouldn't be going through all the worst case scenarios in my head, if only I didn't know what they are. I wouldn't be worrying about whether or not they can get oxygen masks over their faces, or whether or not they will whine their way into cans of Sprite.
Or maybe I would. Maybe I would because those are my babies, and they're going 1500 miles away from me, where I won't be there if someone falls off a bike and scrapes their knees, where I can't come get them if it turns out that they don't still get along with the best friends they left behind four years ago when we left Denver. That powerless feeling I get every time I buckle my seat belt and put my tray table up for take-off isn't much different from the powerless feeling I'm getting sending my sons into the world on their own for two weeks.
But I guess the best things in life are the ones that leave you feeling helpless - like motherhood, like launching yourself through clouds and over mountains, like letting go. I never knew how to see the world until I saw it from a few thousand feet up, and maybe I don't know how to see my kids for the little men that they are until I see them from a few thousand miles away. I guess it's time to let them go. I supposed I have to let them go, and trust that I taught them how to put mud on a bee sting and ask politely for sodas and behave even when I'm not watching.
It took me a while, but I learned how to fly. It's taking me a while, but I'm trying to learn how to give my kids wings, too.
tagged 
1of3, 2of3, Flying, letting go, motherhood, travel | in An actual post about parenting | Permalink
1of3, 2of3, Flying, letting go, motherhood, travel | in An actual post about parenting | Permalink 
Reader Comments (16)
Ouch.
I just retrieved mine from being at my sister's for 3 weeks. That was so hard to let them go. In someone else's car, with a spouse you don't really care for--to drive 1300 miles.
Then, to have her call me every.single. day with suggestions to better improve my parenting.
Good Luck!
They will always come back, know that.
And we put chewing tobacco on bee stings. Need to try the mud.
I absolutely adore this post.
Hmmm, cut rhubarb rubbed on bee stings, if you don't have enough spit to make mud, works, too. Also, onion juice.
I don't know if I will have the strength to let mine go or not when the time comes, but I hope that I will, so that they can fly in a way that I, as a child, was not permitted.
Graceful. That's the word I'm looking for here. Graceful.
Letting go. Not something I like to think about. The oldest went to math camp (for fifth graders)at a college this summer. He was so miserable the first night he called, and I was ready to get on a plane to go pick him up.
Speaking of planes, once I started jumping out of them I started hating them altogether. Do you know how many seats the airlines have let me have because I sucked them up my poop shoot during the flights.
The worst part is that they insisted their father drop them off. Ingrates. http://www.whiskeyinmysippycup.com/2010/07/20/learning-to-fly/
You are so right for the whole parenting gig. Definitely created for motherhood!
Prepaid debit cards. The rest falls right into place. That, or they end up on the streets of Denver with nothing but two really nice ipods.
Learning how to fly was amazing. Intoxicating. Freeing.
But yes, it opened up an entire new world of insanity for me when I wasn't the one actually piloting the plane.
It's the same for me as I work in medication safety. a hospital visit is just one potential disaster after another.
The ole mud on a bee sting... nice.
I think flying is one of those occupations that should be handled on a need-to-know basis. Not quite sure I'd like to know about what-all could go south. Sorta like what causes the swelling in a bee sting. The mud does work, though...
You're a good mama.
This post reminds me of one of the episodes of Planet Earth where the little baby birds nose dive out of the tree and free fall forever. But in a good, touching, teary kind of way. :D
Shannon- beautifully written post. Dude. You handled it way more gracefully than I would have. Agh!
-Lisa
mud on bee stings? You can add medical practitioner and educator to your resume now.