It’s no secret that we love to travel. Be it a weekend away in Abu Dhabi, a far flung trip to Petra or a Caribbean Cruise, generally if it involves heading away we are up for it. The problem these days is not so much the spontaneity of travel with children but the logistics of travel. From the logistics of getting to the airport to actually flying.
Children mean stuff.
A LOT of stuff.
It’s no longer the case of throw a backpack on, jump on the tube and head to the nearest airport. Nope. These days we have all manner of baby paraphernalia to cart round with us, and we have a love of flying to far flung destinations rather than the more sensible driving holidays where you can pack your car up with all your baby
No. Not us.
I blame the plane obsession on my pilot father-in-law, who passed it onto my husband, who in turn passed it on to the Big One. I have never known a child so thrilled about all things plane. Except, I’m told, my husband when he was the same age.
It’s all about the planes.
And being all about planes, means we have to head to airports. With limited luggage allowance. I mean, just what makes the grade and what doesn’t? You know that the ten thousand toys that take the place of your spare t-shirt, the one that you don’t normally need, except today when you didn’t pack it and the Baby chooses to vomit cheese all down you at 40,000ft. But that is a whole other post in itself.
Then you have the logistics of getting to the airport. Stress before your holiday even begins.
Do you book a taxi? And then, do you take your car seats with you in the taxi and then the plane, eating further into your luggage allowance in some cases.
Do you hire car seats? Both at home and when you get there? Do you even drive when you get on holiday?!
Do you risk it all and head on public transport, braving the tube if you are in London, adding hours to the, already long, journey.
Do you take the easy option and drive your own car? Parking in perfectly placed airport parking, that doesn’t (always) have to break the bank. Meaning you have your own, in my case still grotty, car seats for safety when travelling without having to take them onto your final destination.
And that is just the logistics of getting to the airport.
Still, even though I can guarantee on every journey to the airport I get flustered, I get panicky, whatever method we use to get there, I fall out with the husband. I vow never ever again. Then we get to our final destination and have these moments.
And that makes everything worthwhile. The logistics of getting to the airport. The airport itself. The flight.
Everything is perfect.
Until the next temper tantrum (from me most likely) that is.