Florida to Alaska: Continuous Chaos of Traveling with Toddlers

Florida to Alaska—that was the plan. 17 hours of pure "joy" 

At 4:30 a.m., I was already up because my four-year-old daughter decided to sleep so close to me that she was practically under me, leaving me hanging halfway off the bed. By 5:30 a.m., we were on the road headed to the airport.

Our first flight from Pensacola to Dallas was fairly smooth. That’s when the four-hour layover kicked in, and the reality of four hours with a two-year-old and a four-year-old began.

There is rarely a time when one of them isn't begging for attention or screaming about the other one. They never sit still, except for short bursts when they might watch a YouTube video. Toddlers are always hungry, so even with a bag loaded with snacks, we had to stop and get something to eat in the airport. Add in several bottles of water, and you are easily spending 75 bucks just to momentarily settle the craziness.

At lunch, they were pounding on the tables and throwing the ketchup bottles off the edge. One, then the other. You aren't even eating; you are just trying to put out fires.

The Flight: Gas, Stench, and Passenger Politics

Then came the next flight: 3 hours and 45 minutes, plus a delay on the runway.

The four-year-old had severe gas, which was excruciating. Every 10 minutes for the entire ride. It was so bad that people around us were complaining as if we could just reach over and shut her gas off.

But that part wasn't even as bad as their need to move around all the time. They opened and closed the window shades constantly, which elicited more complaints from the people behind us. Then there was the seat kicking—those people don't complain right to your face, but their body language does. It doesn't matter what you do; it is nearly impossible to control the carnival that happens in those tiny seats.

They spill water. They dump food out. They throw their toys and kick their shoes off. They scream and sing and touch everything in sight.

Finally, we land. Upon landing, there is group talk of the stench and the window slamming—people talking loud enough to ensure we know they are talking about us.

"VALIDATION!" one adult says loudly. "I was worried someone would think it was me."

Joke after joke. Adults dropping bombs about toddlers and their whirlwind of behavior, as if we can command them to behave like robots.

The Delayed Layover: Floor Cheese and the Emotional Stock Market

Off the plane, my son decides he doesn't want to walk, so he screams to get in the stroller. There's only one stroller, and his sister starts screaming too because, "I WANT TO RIDE!" So now I'm carrying one of them in one arm and a heavy carry-on in the other.

What was supposed to be a 2.5-hour layover was delayed another 2 hours. Factor in a three-hour time shift, and they are now three hours past their bedtime, but still wide awake.

When kids are tired and still awake, their emotions are like the stock market: huge swings of pure ecstasy, and then quick, sharp drops that turn into pure chaos.

Eating at the airport is wild. Kids will roll around on the brown carpet that has probably been stepped on by tens of thousands of people today. They use their bare hands to push up off the floor while simultaneously holding a piece of cheese that’s squished in their fist, and before you can say anything, it's already been swallowed.

More food spilling all over and rolling around. At one point, my son saw a spot by the window he wanted to look out of really bad, so he took off running—headfirst into a table he didn't see in front of him. Then his sister comes over, and rather than looking out the window, they start fighting over a chair that neither one of them even ends up sitting in.

It's hard to describe how many times they jump on you. Maybe 10 to 15 times an hour. They also have a call-out ramp-up. They start by saying "Mom. Mom. MOM. MOM!!!" or "DAD. DAD. DAD!!!" It gets louder and louder, and when they are finally satisfied with your response... they have absolutely nothing to say. They just wanted your attention over the other. This spirals into one taking a blanket from another, and then screaming about who gets what blanket.

You have to tell them to stop doing something every two minutes. My son is currently standing on a terminal table that he climbed onto from the seats, jumping up and down making noises, while my daughter is repeating, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?!"

The Coma and the Aftermath

Finally getting on the last flight, they both pass out for the next 2 hours until we arrive in Alaska.

As I sit her waiting to land, I can't help but think about what it's going to be like for the next two hours.

Waking kids up after 2 hours of sleep post a late bedtime results in scream-crying. Nothing can satisfy them but sleep, but they won't go back to sleep because they think they are missing something.

We get to the rental car, which takes another 45 minutes of waiting for car seats to come last through baggage claim. Then we have to hook them up in the car in the dark before we can hopefully get them sleeping for the ride to the house. By then, nothing can wake them up. They are 6 hours past their bedtime, and only a few hours from when they normally wake up... which is going to make for a wonderful day of emotional swings tomorrow.

Dealing With It

I'm not sure exactly what the lessons are in this type of travel. But one thing I do know: even with the ridiculous, continuous experiences of traveling with toddlers, it's part of the lifestyle. You just deal with it.

You learn how judgmental you were before you had kids. You really get to understand how to stop caring about bothering other people—as much as you can, anyway. Kids will really test your patience. There is a fine line between never-ending discipline and giving them a bit of freedom to be kids. People around you don't really want kids to be kids at airports, and especially on planes. I know because I have been every one of those people at some point.

When I looked at the person sitting next to us at one of the terminals—with her toddler on a leash—all I could imagine was how challenging of a time she was having. I knew her pain without even knowing her.

The amount of parents I see scrambling around having an absolutely treacherous time is a little bit freeing. It makes it all okay. It's a universal experience.