A Page From My Sketchbook

I’d never been on flight like THIS. The entire plane was outnumbered by two babies. Two bald-headed, demanding Tyrants-in-Pampers. I’d dragged myself onto the plane, heavy-lidded and exhausted from an incredible week of intensive east coast driving, a fab Highlights Workshop at “The Barn,” visits with family and friends, and bouts of meal-skipping because I was either too lazy or unmotivated to explore a strange city in search of pizza at 11 pm. I tried but was unable to get much sleep. It was like that every night. I found myself totally wired by all the ideas and daily impressions lurching through my brain cells till 2 am–and it didn’t help that I was hooked on the audio book version of The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd.

No Snoozing Zone

After brief introductions with my row mates and settling into my seat, I was gong to catch some zzz’s. That’s just what you DO on planes, am I right? Well, I was wrong! About three rows up a baby started to whimper. I figured his/her mama would nurse him/her to sleep. Been there, done that with both my kids when they traveled as infants. I get it–I’m not your persnickety passenger who hates being around babies. I love ’em! I love looking at babies when I travel. Normally, I find their wide-eyed glances and multitude of expressions¬† engaging–a welcome diversion. This time, however, I was hell bent on getting some shut-eye.

Back to Little Miss/Mister Whimper-Poo… S/he was happily gurgling now. Ahhh… fed to satisfaction! I eased my seat back and closed my eyes. I stood at the threshold of Dreamland rady to set foot into the sweetness of the moment when a very loud “Bwaaaaah!” snapped me back to my coach seat on Delta. Somehow s/he managed to bawl louder and LOUDER. I was like WTH? I set my seat back to upright position. Wasn’t that baby already full of mama’s milk? I looked at the lady next to me who just smirked and rolled her eyes. “There are two of them,” she said. “Oh, I see,” I replied, trying to wrap my bleary mind around the situation. I watched as the mama of the first crying baby was handed a red-faced screamer by a woman in the seat ahead of her. From what I could tell, they were exchanging the places of TWINS! Mama was bravely traveling with the sniffle meter odds against her. She brought extra hands but not food sources AKA breasts. Nobody but she could truly calm and comfort the babies. A surge of mama-power sympathy surged through me. I couldn’t travel like that. One baby per flight was enough for me to handle. However, any pity I felt for her was drowned out by an aggravating, nasal din continually hitting my ear drums. When one baby stopped crying, the other baby started up. And so it went. For an eternity.

Saving My Sanity

The exhausted brain shows the following signs of mental fatigue according an article in Psychology Today: Physical fatigue, impatience and irritability and Inability to concentrate or focus. I was exhibiting all three, in spades. I had close to four hours left with THEM. Clearly, the Twin Terror Tag Team was winning. They rarely let up. Getting sleep was out of the question. I thought I was going to lose it. I’d run out of juice in my iPhone battery so I couldn’t even distract myself with music or a new audio book.

Then I thought why not “make lemons out of lemonade”? Or better yet, ice cream out of mama’s milk? Huh??? That was my excruciatingly tired brain talking. I HAD to do something “constructive” for sake of sanity. So, I pulled out my sketchbook, located my favorite pen and proceeded to draw out my Feelings. The image says it all!