There are few things that strike fear in a parent's heart as hearing the words, "plane" and "with my children" in the same sentence. Add the fact that my kids are aged three and under, and, as we head overseas this month, I know we're in for one long 13-hour ride! 

Ever since my first trip across the border to Canada when I was a newborn, I have loved to travel. Maybe it's because I'm a Bolivian who grew up in the US, always aware of other cultures; or maybe because my parents always pushed us to learn more about, well, everything, but as soon as I arrived in Spain to study abroad in college, I started to travel in earnest, seeing much of Europe, Africa and, later, Central and South America.

Since my kids were born, I've slowed down a lot, but by the time Monkey turned one, we had traveled to Bolivia, Mexico and India. If journeys were lessons, the trip to Mexico taught me to never give a 7-month-old an ice cube and that, if I were to do so, I should have packed myself an extra outfit because I certainly needed it. On the bright side, that trip is what convinced me to buy Monkey his own seat for our flight to India. He slept for nearly 10 blissful hours in that carseat, 10 hours he would have otherwise spent on our laps because our chunky Monkey would not have fit into the bassinet. 

This time Monkey has his own seat and it's Munchkin who is travelling in a bassinet. She will barely squeeze into it, but I'm sure she'll also spend a fair amount of time in the Ergo, on the floor and fighting Nikhil for space on his seat because keeping a curious 13-month still in one place is nearly (completely?) impossible.

In anticipation of entertaining our kids for hours on end either in transit to the airport, within the airport or on the plane, I'm packing a favorite toy and a few stickers and playthings they've never seen before. I'm hoping the novelty will keep them amused. The airline (clearly not American-based) promises to provide toys, warm milk and kid-friendly food, but I'm not taking chances. And for those of you who read my blog post "My Beef with TV," I want you to know I'm selling out. Any time my kids are enclosed in the same room as hundreds of other people for 12-15 hours at a time, I become TV's biggest fan. Monkey will be allowed to watch TV and play games most of the flight, unless it keeps him from sleeping. 

Speaking of which, one reason we picked this flight is because it's overnight. That means the 12 1/2 hours will fly by, right? Well, let's do some math. My kids sleep about 10 hours a night. The flight starts 3 hours after the bedtime and ends nearly six hours after they normally wake up, which means that after they get settled, they will probably sleep about 7 hours.  That's if they got any sleep in the airport--likely for Munchkin, not for Monkey. If they get no sleep, we'll have a crying baby on our hands but the potential for 10 hours of sleep on the plane. But then airlines do that thing where they wake you up and feed you at odd times in attempts to get your mind adjusted to the new time zone. That's probably not going to work, especially because by the time we arrive at our destination, the new time zone will indicate that we've arrived one hour past their bedtime which will seem entirely unfair to both kids. What will probably happen is that they will each take turns being awake, just to ensure their parents are tired by the time we've arrived.  At least we'll be ready to sleep that night!

The commute abroad doesn't quite end when we get off the plane. There will be long hallways to walk through, customs to clear, and baggage to pick up. But there to greet us, with open arms, will be our family. Nieces and nephews to play with our kids, their aunts and uncles to share a laugh with and grandparents to lift the children from our arms and spoil them rotten. This is why we travel. Though the flight is long, the journey is wonderful.

What's the longest flight you've taken with your child?  What's the minimum age you want them to reach before you take a long flight?  Do you have any tips or travel tricks you'd like to share?

I love getting holiday cards. I love seeing them in my mailbox, ripping them open and admiring the photos and adventures of friends and family. Before Facebook, it was an especially good way to keep up with my cousins across the country and friends scattered all over the US and beyond. Some cards are very brief, ("Merry Christmas! Love, The Midwestern Family") and some fill both sides of a full sheet of paper, and I like them all. 

I didn't start sending out holiday cards until after I had Monkey almost four years ago. Right before Christmas, I decided to send one thinking it couldn't be that hard. Little did I know that those smiling faces looking at me from the holiday cards were mocking my ignorance. 

First I had to find a website with cool card designs, i.e. no cards resembling a bad Christmas sweater. Then I had to choose a color for the card, which sounds easy, but not when I have three religions and several atheists in the family who I didn't want to over-Christmatize*. I knew I was over-analyzing when I was debating whether reindeer or candy canes were more generic-holiday-season-appropriate. (I chose a blue card with snowflakes.)

Next, I had to find a cute baby picture of Monkey. Lucky me, I had the perfect photo of Monkey as a newborn. His tiny outfit even matched the newly-selected color of the card. Alas, after submitting the photo on-line, a kind company representative emailed to say that the picture was too grainy to print properly and I needed a replacement. Then I had to find a decent picture of my husband, son and me, of which there was only one. Which of course was taken when my husband was growing a beard. I thought he'd like it in the card. He didn't. 

After I got the photos sorted out, I had to choose the right font and the right verbiage. Happy Holidays? Happy New Year? Season's Greetings? When the card was finished and grudgingly approved by my husband, I had to calculate how many cards I needed, which is hard when trying to count all my friends on my fingers. Then I realized I needed to include more family, new friends, former co-workers and probably someone's pet chihuahua. I added 50 more cards to the total until I saw the how much it was going to cost and subtracted 43. 

Then I stared at the screen debating whether cards printed with our address were worth $3 each or if simply getting our address on mailing stickers was worth $1.50. Instead, I decided to start my wrist stretches in preparation for a lot of writing. The card website also gave me the option of sending my address list in and mailing all the cards for me, but that was going to require more organization and more spreadsheets than I could muster as a first-year parent. 

I did finally get the cards out, but I have intelligently blocked out whether I sent them out in a timely manner. (I was probably Christmatized after all.) Last year, thinking my previous two years of card selection and design had prepared me, I started earlier. Despite my wise selection of holiday-neutral "Happy New Year" cards, they were late. It turns out photographing two squirrely children is harder than one. (It also turns out the company didn't ship my cards when they said they did, but I don't want to sound defensive or anything.)

This year, I already have the cards printed and ready to go three weeks before Christmas. I'm flexing and stretching my writing wrist and lining up my "good" pens. The only major drama surrounding the cards happened when they arrived and the printer appeared to have cut my husband's head off of the family photo. Fortunately, it was only the cover page that had him headless, because I'm pretty sure my husband would have liked that even less than he liked the beard.  

Merry everything everyone!

*Christmatize is my new word for when you are traumatized by the hoopla and marketing leading up to Christmas. (Not to mention the holiday music that starts in October.)

Do you have any horror stories about creating your holiday cards? Any advice for holiday card newbies?

Have you ever tried jarred baby food? You know those pureed peas or sweet potatoes.  Better yet, those pureed meat and veggie combos? I have, and they are not too tasty. However, this post isn't about the fact that jarred baby food is not exactly delicious, or that I prefer homemade baby food for my kids. Instead it's about my snacking problem.  

I'm not someone who snacks all day long nor am I someone who eats junk food every day. Even though I love me some Cheetos and Doritos, I'm better known for having a bowl of fruit on my desk, back when I actually had one. No, my sin is eating while I cook or prepare food for me and the kids. Thus the baby food. Sure, sometimes I was checking the temperature of the food by taking a bite, but sometimes I was eating out of habit. Then I'd stop myself and ask, "What the heck am I doing eating baby food?"  If I were feeding kids traditional French chocolate sandwiches, I would understand the nibbling, but really, I'm an equal-opportunity snacker:  I'll eat whatever is in front of me. Tomatoes, bread, cheese (my weakness!), and meatloaf have all fallen victim to my snacking. Of course, since I've selected and cooked 99% of the things the kids are eating, I'm at a disadvantage because that means I like it and will want to eat it even more. (Maybe I should start feeding them things I don't like?)

At least I know who to blame for this habit--my Dad. My beloved late father loved food. He loved to eat and he loved to cook. Whenever he was in the kitchen, he would snack and usually do a little dance while he snacked. Now I do a little dance when I sneak a taste too. Of course, I have two kids and dancing and singing along with goofy songs makes them laugh an awful lot, so there is a lot of dancing going on while I cook anyway.

I have realized that the snacking gets out of hand and I have noticed that if I'm full, I can get by without snacking at all. Perhaps I need to eat more just to eat less? I've also learned that if I'm going to eat the kids' food, I might as well  put it on a plate, sit down and eat it with them. It's also wise to not follow that meal with a proper adult meal later that evening. Lucky for me, I tend to feed my kids adult food so at least I'm not over-eating bad boxed mac'n'cheese. That said, I do tend to over-eat my killer homemade mac'n'cheese, but that's another story.  

For now, I've just tried to cut back on the snacking by being conscious of it and, really, by chewing mint gum, which spoils the taste of anything eaten with it. I've also been combating my habit of finishing the kids' leftovers by reminding myself I don't really want their soggy crumbs, no matter how wasteful it feels to throw them out. I'm confident that these things, combined with my new mantra, will help me cut back. What's my new mantra? Less eating, more dancing. 

Do you snack on your kid''s food?  What do you do to refrain from over-indulging?  Do you have a personal mantra that helps keep your mouth shut and your feet moving?  Share in the comments below.