The blog has been very quiet lately. It's been an intense month. I haven't quite figured out how to put all of my feelings into words. I may never.
Work is busy. I took the last two weeks of the month off, and it still isn't enough time to get everything done. Granted, we were on vacation for almost one of the two weeks, so not much was able to get done then. It was a much needed vacation. The kids were able to get away. We had a much more successful flight this time than the first time we flew with kids. I haven't been able to write about that in four years because of how triggered it made me for the longest time.
My daughter was one. We were flying to see friends moving halfway across the world. It was my first time meeting her two children and her first time meeting my husband and only child (at the time). The flight was delayed so she fell asleep at the airport instead of during takeoff like I had anticipated. Strike one. On the plane, an elderly woman had taken our seats so we sat in the seats across the aisle. I proceeded to wipe down the seats, trays, window area, and then a flight attendant came over. She told us we couldn't sit in the Exit Row with an infant. Of course....of course....and when we told her where our actual seats were, she didn't ask the elderly woman to move, because who does that? It's rude! So instead, the lady sitting in front of us offered to trade her seat with our row.
So we ended up sitting in different seats than we'd originally purchased, and I did not wipe them down because I was too flustered from all the shifting.
After take-off, I went to give my daughter a sip of her water, completely forgetting that bottles pressurize with the elevation change. Water came shooting out of her bottle through the pop-up straw and splashed some to the people sitting in front of us. The lady completely flipped out that her iPad was splashed with water and almost ruined and basically ruined the rest of the flight for us. Every time after that when I put the tray up or down, she'd turn around and glare. She chatted with the elderly man sitting next to her and he did the same. When I bent down to try and retrieve something from my backpack to calm my child down, he glared because he couldn't stand the pressure for 10 seconds for me to retrieve something.
At least one of them was Canadian. Canadians are known to be kind and generous and forgiving. Not this one. Canadians are people just like any other nationality and they can be real PITA too. Look at the person. Not the label.
I was too nice then. I'm also not the fastest thinker when I'm anxious or stressed or under pressure. But if I had the nerve or if it ever happened again, I'd give her a mouthful.
You think I'm excited about flying with a one year old? You think I wanted to sit behind you on this plane? You think I want the plane to be this squished and the seats so close together that I have to push on the seat in front of me just so I can bend over in a way to retrieve something to try and help your comfort on this plane so my child isn't going nuts or being loud? My daughter feels exactly the same way you do right now. But she's one. You on the other hand are a grown adult who should be able to control feelings and think for someone else. You used to be my daughter's age. What would you do if you saw someone glare at your mother like that? Immaturity is only acceptable when you are not expected to know any better. I think you'd lose to my one year old.
I'm still triggered thinking about that incident. Sometimes I wish my memory weren't so vivid.
My kids did really amazing on their plane rides this month. Yes, I have a five and three year old now, so the expectations are a little different, but both of them did really well. The flight there was the best it could have been. Quiet kids. No crying. No screaming. No noise basically. The flight back was a little rougher as my three-year-old was over tired and he cried for a bit. But people were understanding. Nobody said anything or glared or gave us stares. Or maybe they did and I didn't see it, but ignorance is bliss.
***
We are a family of four. We have a three and five year old. Not too far off. We've gone shopping there many times as a family. I've gone shopping there myself since I was a teenager. I don't think I can ever go back. I couldn't sleep for days after it happened. Two days after, I broke out in hives all over with swollen hands. At first, I thought it was stress. But it kept getting worse. I was on antibiotics that week. After 36 hours, I went to an urgent care to get it looked at. He told me it looked like an allergic reaction to the medication. We switched medication and the rash started to subside. My body returned back to normal, or as normal as I could feel physically. But mentally? It's still there.
The week after it happened, we ran errands as a family. We went to Old Navy. We went to a mall. We went to a restaurant. At one point, I checked my phone and saw a notification of a message regarding a shooting. I thought it was another one. Then I clicked in and saw it was 6 days old. The immediate panic went away. But the residual feelings did not. They still haven't.
It actually occurred to me when I was on vacation, I shouldn't feel as afraid walking around in this state. Because their laws were different. I should actually feel safer, more relieved, to be here than I do at home. Isn't that weird? I've never thought in my adult life I'd come across feeling safer somewhere which wasn't where I called home, but I did. And then it hit me. During the year I moved to a different country and lived by myself, never once did I have fears like this. Fears of getting mugged by thieves? Sure. Being abducted? Maybe. But being shot openly in broad daylight doing mundane everyday tasks? Never.
I was reading about one of the shooting victims who didn't die. He said God had plans for him and that's why he survived the shooting. I'm glad he thinks that way, and I think he should think that way, but what about everyone else who didn't survive? Was that God's plan, too? It is so hard for me as someone who believes in God to answer yes to that question. I don't want to answer yes to that question. I want to kick and scream and yell at God for letting it happen. I have a three year old.
And then I have to remind myself. Vermeer's painting Girl With a Pearl Earring depicts a young woman with a light-skinned face. I remember the light-skinned face by memory. But Vermeer used dark paint on her face as well. Why is that?
Her face has a shadow. And we don't know until we see the whole painting.
