The Annual Jetplane Post

I love the song “Leaving On  a Jet Plane” and hum it/ sing it incessantly for a week or so every year before I fly away from Turkey to visit my homeland.  And then I name my departure post for the song.  I bet it gets a little old, hey?  I know that despite my fond feelings for the song I get sick of hearing myself sing it (and yet I can’t stop…) so I imagine you get sick of my annual post titles.

Oh well.  Too bad.

I’ve got a lot of my packing done.  Most, actually.  EcoBabe just needs his socks packed.  And then we’re covered.  And if I forget something, I’ll be heading to Goodwill or the Sally Ann not long after arriving anyway.  Now is the time when I get to fret and fear the flight itself.  

I used to love flying.  I loved trips that involved transfers because I got to take off and land repeatedly.  Now those are white knuckle moments for me.  My stomach is in my mouth.  I pay attention to the safety information presented by the flight attendants.  I NEED to know how to save my kids if we crash (because the likelihood of survival is so high… ha.)  

Flying is sheer hell for me.  I’m deathly afraid where once I was delighted.  Had I not children in tow, I’d be taking sleeping pills to get me through the experience.  Alas, I have EcoKid and EcoBabe to tend to and to keep calm.  So I must pretend at calm myself.  

We have oodles of diversions packed in our carry on bags to ease us through the flights.  Or rather, they do.  They’ve got toys, books, games, art stuff, and gifts from my friend M.  I’ll have my computer (not for me, for them to watch DVDs on!)  And I’ve got food, food, food in case the airplane food doesn’t meet their high culinary standards.  

I hope we make it.  Rather, I hope I make it.  I have a vision of me being carried off the plane in a stretcher due to nervous exhaustion.  It won’t happen, but if I imagine the worst… well… I don’t know why I bother with imagining the worst.  

So.  22 hours of flights.  About 28 hours door-to-door (assuming no gargantuan delays of the sort we had last summer– 14 glorious hours in Gatwick Airport.)  A week or so of jetlag, I’m guessing.  Then three whole months of Canada!  Family!  Friends!  Fun!  

I’ll post again when we get there and get settled.  Please send all kinds of positive thoughts my way, if you can spare them.

And Marie, I’m putting your four leaf clover into service again.  She’s travelling in my carry on luggage too.

Bye bye!

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