I’ve been away but now I’m back. We’ve had a lovely family vacation a whole mess of time zones away and now, having red-eyed it back to the east coast, I find myself sitting here blogging because I have very few awake brain cells to rub together and if I stand up I’m going to have do deal with the food and laundry issues lurking a room or two away. Also we’re all sounding pretty cranky so maybe it’s best if we just stay in our corners for the time being.

It is also quite possible that I am really the beast of the bunch, as I appear to be the worst at flying. I cannot sleep on a plane no matter how much I try to talk myself into understaning that I will be fine–it is quite unlikely that we will plummet into the earth/ocean at the whim of a gusty wind (although the pilot did mention on the second flight of the day that he was going to be avoiding some “tornadic” weather in the midwest, which was really not all that reassuring). Additionally, the kids do not undertand that during takeoff and landing mommy must sit as still as humanly possible and try to zen herself out into some peaceful place wherein I am not sitting in what is essentially a giant aluminum gas tank with wings hurtling itself illogically through the air. Thus, it is not good for me to have conversations like this just before takeoff, when I am being issued a child sized life vest for my younger daughter:

N: Mommy, you have to give it back. She asked if I was forty-five pounds and I am.

Me: Just put it under your seat.

N: But I am forty-five pounds. I don’t need it.

Me: Just put it under your seat.

N: But I don’t want it. E didn’t have to have one.

Me: Just put it under your seat. You won’t need it anyway.

N: How do you know?

Me: I know.

N: Are you sure?

Me: Yes. It’s just for emergencies. We’re not going to have an emergency.

N: Have you ever had an emergency on a plane?

Me: No.

N: Then how will we know what to do we do if we have one?

Me: (looking to see if the flight attendant is coming around with the alcohol yet) We’re not going to have one. Just put it under your seat.

Flight passes without incident. Upon landing, taxiing, and collecting various amusements from seat pockets and such, N picks up the still neatly packed life vest and says: You were right! We didn’t need it! You’re psychic!

N thinks I’m psychic lately. I’m going to go with that one for a while. Also we’re going to stay on land.