Who: me. Chicken. Buster. My mom.

What: getting on a plane to fly to Colorado.

When: tomorrow morning

Where: I just said that. Colorado.

Why: WHY INDEED.

This will be my first time flying with 2 kiddos. All I can say is thank God for the iPad because that should transform Chicken from Tony Hawk into Stephen Hawking. 

One of the first major psychological adjustments you have to make as a parent is the acceptance of the new labyrinth of logistics that your life has become. Every trip to the park has the precision timing and gear prep of a HALO jump into the rebel stronghold in the hills. 

You don't just go to the park. Bitch please. You got the sun hat? Your band aids? You got a fresh water bottle and snacks? Is the car bag up to date with spare clothes and diapers that will actually fit your children? Yeah, Chicken isn't wearing size threes anymore. Oh wait, we missed the window. It's going to be lunch time in 45 minutes and by the time we get there... We are pulling the plug. I say again, abort. Operation THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE FUN OKAY is NOT a go.

What's amazing is that you actually get used to packing for the park like you're fleeing across the border.

So tonight, prepping for the airport and planning out the day, I feel like I've got a pretty good handle on it all. 

This is how we are gonna roll:

Katie: 

Buster in Ergo on chest. 

Backpack on back containing binkies, antibacterial wipes, burp cloth, swaddle blanket, snacks, books, iPad, headphones for Chicken and me, headphone splitter, book for me (because I'm definitely going to have so much time to enjoy my book on this flight.)

Large tote on shoulder, contents include diapers and wipes for both boys, small trash bags for shitty diapers, three ziploc bags with changes of clothes for me and each of the boys, disposable changing table covers, handi-wipes (which my autocorrect tried to change to Gandhi wipes) and a Boppy pillow.

Small cross-body bag with wallet, phone, keys, sunglasses, luna bar.

Katie's Mom:

Her overnight bag.

Chicken in umbrella stroller.

Chicken:

Monkey backpack/leash that contains a couple of favorite board books, a notebook and pen, a small Baggie (why is that capitalized, autocorrect?) of crackers, his Lightning McQueen car, and a supremely annoying toddler smartphone that lights up and talks and makes beep-bloop noises. 

Here's the plan.

- Arrive at gate, send mom to duty free for large bottle of gin.

- gate check umbrella stroller.

- run Chicken up and down the hall. I plan to simply hurl apple slices as far as I can so he has to chase then down and then, you know, eat them and presumably contract Bottom of Stranger's Shoe Disease. 

- board plane as early as possible. Mom, then Chicken, then me and Buster.

- when we get to our seats, Chicken climbs in first and mom buckles him in just tight enough to make his toes tingle.

- mom takes middle seat, stows her bag.

- hand Buster to mom, take off Ergo. Swap Ergo for Boppy pillow, stash the tote bag with diapers/clothes in the overhead bin.

- place iPad, headphones, a few books/snacks in seat back pocket. Stow backpack under seat.

- sit in aisle seat with Buster on Boppy pillow.

- whip tit out to feed Buster and greet rest of passengers with the sight of my nipple. Pray that someone says something so I can become a breast feeding crusader on HuffPo or Jezebel.

- whip out that gin real quick for a pre-game shot. Pray that someone says something so I can post about it on Facebook. LOL.

- realize I forgot to wipe down the seats. Wonder whether it's too late and at what point it became too late. Was it when we sat down? Was it when Chicken touched the seat with his actual fingers, and then rubbed his eyes? Is this how it all ends? With some leather airplane seat disease?

- decide to live dangerously and forego the seat wipe down. At this point I have to hyperextended my spine to get anything else out if my backpack.

- pray.

I'll let you know how it goes. 

Mother Bird signing off.