Hell in the Air

(wait... didn't I write this post before??)

Want a good laugh?  Okay, I can laugh now but you know how it goes... in the moment you want to die.

SO let me recap my day for you, shall I?

Hudson... oh my dear sweet Hudson who shall be the ever-loving death of me.  All "vacation" (because omg so was not vacation with that little devil) he was so ridiculously rotten.  I kid you not.  Yes, I'm talking about my CHILD here.  And I can call him rotten if I want to because I love him to pieces but he's giving me friggin grey hairs here!

Pretty much everyday he had stomp your feet, throw the hot wheels car, take off my shoes in public, threaten to "break you into pieces" and "Momma I'm putting you in time out" tantrums.  And they were usually over something little, something that pissed him off but he just couldn't get a grip on himself and it just escalated to epic proportions.  Yes, EPIC proportions.

Wednesday at the beach my mom sent him back to the house because he was crying the whole time.  Mike drove the golf cart up to the beach and brought him back (where I was sleeping heavily because, hello, I'd been dealing with Toddler-Zilla all week).  I woke up, picked my jaw off the ground after realizing it was 11:22am (oh yeah) and decided to take him back up to the beach.  I thought, "Ohhh sometimes my mom can get frustrated with one of the boys when she has both of them... maybe if he has some one on one time with me he'll be fine at the beach."

Ha.  Ha.   Ha.

We zipped down to the beach and not even 5 minutes there he was throwing a fit about uhm... what?  I think it had something to do with him wanting me to sit by him or something, and then I tried to get him to go near the water (which he'd been LOVING the day before... riding the waves in and everything) but that pissed him off.  I tried to distract him with the dump truck and that worked for awhile, he drove it around but how DARE the dump truck get stuck in the sand??

We decided to walk down the beach a few houses (like 5 maybe?) and check out the sea turtle nest that had been roped off.  The walk down was ok, but the walk back... well Hudson stopped and wanted to be carried.  But he didn't want anyone to touch the dump truck.  Then he was "too tired" to push the dump truck but wouldn't let Porter help him.  So he stood there.  And cried.  I went back and pretty much dragged him back to the beach access for my mom's neighborhood and he cried the entire time.  CRIED.  SCREAMED.  Wouldn't not put his shoes on but what would you know, the sand was scalding so of course THAT set him off even more.

That's what I was dealing with all week, folks.

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO back to today.  The flight home. Well our morning was pretty uneventful.  Went on bumper boats, go carts, showered, had lunch at Michaelangelos and hit up a few consignment/salvation army type stores.  Went into one called New To You (which had a bit of antiques) and Hudson dropped a toy car on his foot and got ticked and threw it and that set off a tantrum and I overreacted because I'd just told Porter not to touch this $50 model plane and like, HELD HIS FACE in my hand and SPOKE IN HIS FACE that I DON'T CARE WHAT ITS SUPPOSED TO DO YOU ARE NOT TO TOUCH IT! And what does he do?  30 seconds later turns around and touches it. GOD DAMN!

We get to the airport... Hudson is crying because he's thirsty.  We get in line for security and he's refusing to stand by me so I pick him up and he screams and whines and wriggles and slaps me in teh face.  I told him he can get down if he stands beside me but if he walks away I'd pick him back up.  I set him down and he immediately walks away with this shit eating grin on his face.  So I pick him up.  And hell broke loose.  I attempted to set all our stuff on the conveyer belt with a writhing 3 year old in my arms.  He didn't want to take his shoes off so of course that made him even more angry.

We made it through security and I gathered all our stuff.  Hudson is still crying/whining/stomping his feet over who knows what.  We find a spot near the wall and away from a majority of the people and I tried getting down to his level and tried to get him to stop whining/stomping so I could find out what he needed/wanted.  He wanted a drink.  His truck was broken.  He wanted me to fix his truck.  Well, we went to get a drink to solve one problem.  The truck... well I had no idea.  Something was wrong with the wheels and he said they wouldn't turn.  I told him I couldn't fix it but he relentlessly kept whining and stomping and begging me to fix it.  It was time to board the plane and he didn't want to hold my hand (all this time whining and twisting from me and stomping his feet with this ugly scrunched up face).  I got a few stares (ok, a LOT of stares) from the soliders boarding the plane (this is near a military base) and a few sympathetic looks from older people/grandparents/parents.  Yeah, they'd been there, done that and felt it.

Hudson refused to move and I had to pick him up with my one free arm and carry him sideways around the waist, his legs kicking behind me.  I was wearing a 20+lb backpack plus my camerabag and purse and Hudson had on a backpack with toys in it. Did I mention we were boarding a small plane that we had to climb stairs to get onto? While carrying all this shit and a writhing screaming toddler?

We get on the plane and thank the Lord Porter had a nice middleaged man to sit next to on the plane (the seats were 2 and 2 across the aisles).  The guy kept Porter entertained while I tried to calm Hudson down because at this point he was mad about the WORLD.  He told me he wanted to break me into pieces so I'd blow away with the plane or something crazy like that.  I finally got him calmed down when I took away the "broken" truck and gave him a new truck I'd bought for them.  Holy hell it killed me to "reward" him but it shut him up and saved everyone else's sanity along with mine.  The flight was okay after that although he threw a minor tantrum getting off the plane.


Charlotte.

Ohhh Charlotte airport how I despise you.

We exited the plane at Gate E19.  Our tickets said gate B13.  ALLLL the way across the airport.  No biggie... we had almost an hour.  Except Hudson threw a fit the entire way through the airport.  He didn't want to hold my hand.... and on the moving walkways he wanted to walk then stand then walk and if we didn't read his mind he was pissed.  Uhhggghh.

We got to Terminal B and Hudson was crying still so I stopped and asked him what he needed. He was thirsty.  I looked at the time... 5:25.  We had about half an hour or so before takeoff.... I figured we'd be boarding soon.  We had a few minutes to get water.  We bought water then headed on to B13.  Except... the plane at B13 was going to SAN FRANCISCO.  I spun around and ran to the tv screen to check the Detroit flight.  Oh, of COURSE it was changed to Gate D1.  ALL the way back near Terminal E.

I picked up Hudson and tried RUNNING through the airport to catch this plane.  I knew if we missed it I'd die.  Or they'd die.  Or I'd be committed for having a mental breakdown.  I ran and shouted terms of encouragement to Porter who was straggling behind me.  "Good job Buddy!  Keep running!" *pant pant pant*.  I made it down to the entrance of Terminal B and was sweating. I flagged down a guy on a golf car type vehicle and asked him if he'd take us to D1.  He said he could take us to a "transfer" vehicle.  Then he pointed to this small golf cart that was packed full of 3 other people and had one seat left open.  He said "Yeah we have room for you, go get in"  WTF.  I had 4 bags and 2 kids plus myself... for ONE seat on a GOLF CART?  He let Porter sit up front and I blindly trusted no one would snatch him while Hudson and I sat in the back of this cart with our stuff piled on.  Hudson laid on my chest and I was so close to tears it wasn't funny.

We hopped off the cart near the food court and started running toward Terminal D.  I was carrying Hudson and I swear I thought my arm would fall off.  We then ran all the way to the END of Terminal D only to realize Gate D1 was at the beginning.  So we had to backtrack.

We made it just in time as they were boarding.  I was sweating SO bad.  I sat down on a chair to catch my breath adn when I stood up there was sweat on the chair. (I was wearing a dress... my legs were even sweating!!).  OMG sick sick sick.

The plane ride home...ohhhh my kids were obnoxious and overly tired.  Porter wasn't too bad but Hudson was loud and demanding and sassy the whole flight.  I prayed the volume I was hearing him was not really as loud to everyone else.  Who knows.

I vowed then and there I am not traveling with Hudson alone until he's 5.  No effing way.

So, how's you're bloodpressure at this point?  HAHA!  Let me just say I've never been SO glad to be in my damn minivan and driving home in my entire life.