28

Our mission: To survive two cross-country flights with three young children, plus a seven-night cruise with assorted in-laws. Clearly, the numbers were against us.

Carry-on items for airplane: Baby wipes, check.  Boarding passes, check. Nintendo DS with charged batteries (we’ll not make that mistake again, by God), check. Snacks, gum, sweatshirts for the chilly plane, change of clothes for the baby, People magazine to peruse during leisurely moments (hey, a woman can always dream… but when did my fantasies about Brad Pitt become fantasies of finding time to read about Brad Pitt?) – check, check, check. Tylenol for packing-induced migrane, check.

Happiest moment of trip: A young businessman looks up from his Wall Street Journal at our unruly mob -- haggard parents, wired children, and drooling baby -- and flees from our row with an expression most often seen in horror movies when young campers get a glimpse of Jason’s flashing knife. Fine, maybe I gave one of my kid’s ears the slightest motherly tug to spark a timely squabble (“Hey! He pulled my ear!” “No, I didn’t -- owww! He hit me!”) They’ll work out their differences in therapy twenty years from now – in the meantime, we got a coveted empty seat!