Strangers On A Plane

There is a strange thing parents do when they're sitting in the 'lounge' waiting to board a plane. I have a baby strapped to my chest (I'm already sweating), and I'm carrying a backpack as well as a bag in each hand. My husband has just folded up two cumbersome strollers and is attempting to talk our toddler off the floor for the third time this morning - he is also sweating. But behind our calm exteriors, no one would know that we're executing an intense search of the crowd of faces in front of us. Looking at each individual and sizing them up - wondering what kind of people they really are. The type who will loathe sitting near the family that brought '2 under 2' on a transatlantic flight, or the type who will humor us by smiling kindly at the babies before putting their earplugs in.

We are lucky enough to be able to visit my husband's family in England each year, and although we have travelled with kids a handful of times now, I should mention that we've never received any outward criticism or discomfort from other passengers. Perhaps they just kept it to themselves, which is appreciated because I'll be the first to say that no one is being harder on us than we are. It's actually the first piece of advice I offer anyone who asks for tips about travelling with children - give yourself some grace. Right after 'set very low expectations' and 'bring lots of snacks'. I am still working on the grace aspect, but it certainly gets easier with each flight.

On this particular journey we are lucky enough to be seated in front of a kind older couple from Scotland. They smile and coo at the children, ask plenty of questions about them and our trip, and fill us in on their gorgeous grandchildren, including photos! After takeoff they plug in and enjoy the on-flight entertainment, while my husband and I begin the slow and painful dance of  rationing snacks, pulling from our entertainment bag, picking up dropped toys, distraction techniques, walks, sweaty nap attempts, trading babies, and of course, diaper changes in the teeniest of spaces. They've had their children, paid their dues, and now they get to enjoy a relatively stress free flight. We'll hopefully be there one day too, and will reflect happily on these times with the type of rose-coloured vision only time can bring.

It's a rough flight, especially for our toddler who has chosen to go on a food and nap strike for the day, making him irritable to the point of delusion. Without going into too much detail, both he and his baby sister screamed for the entire last hour of the flight, and both collapsed from exhaustion just as the wheels touched down in Toronto. All the preparation I had put into making this a smooth exit was thwarted: I hadn't had time to repack the carry ons (toys, snacks, and gear were everywhere), we had stripped them both down to onesies because they were sweating (but we were about to enter a very cold Toronto evening), and now we were each trapped under a sleeping child that we were terrified to wake. Important to add, you do not get to pick up your strollers until you're through immigration.

As passengers slowly filed past us off the plane, giving us kind smiles and assuring us the children had done really well all things considered, we just looked at each other with tears and defeat in our eyes. "We could just live here, this is a nice plane," my husband tried to joke. But I didn't even have the energy to give him a courtesy laugh.

"Don't be silly," came a voice from behind us with a lovely Scottish accent. "We'll help you." And so the strangers did. The woman carefully dressed our baby while my husband gathered our things and repacked our bags, and the man shuffled his luggage around so he could carry our bags as well as his own, leaving both our hands free to carry sleeping babies. They carried our luggage all the way through the airport, a task which moments ago we had felt was literally impossible.

But more than that, they just talked to us, as if everything was completely as it should be. They told us stories of their children at different difficult stages, and how their grandchildren now are making up for it. They told us where they were travelling to in Canada and how excited they were. I'm not sure how much we responded or if we just looked completely shell shocked from an exhausting end to what had been a whirlwind vacation, but they didn't take much notice. Perhaps they remembered exactly how we were feeling, and they felt that by helping us they were reaching a hand back in time to extend that grace to their young selves.

Our toddler woke up which meant my husband could carry our bags, and we lost the couple in the line at the border. It wasn't until we came through security to the baggage collection that we both began looking for them earnestly. "We didn't even ask them their names," I said frantically to my husband, to which he simply replied, "I really wanted to give them a hug." We stood with our luggage for as long we could, searching the busy crowd for their faces, but it was obvious they were already gone.  How could we have been so lucky to have these strangers, these angels, on the plane with us?

So many times in my life I have noticed the small kindnesses mean the most, but never more so than since having children. It is the littlest smiles, or nods of encouragement, from complete strangers, that can reach out from the dark moments to say - it's ok, all is as it should be, you may feel alone but you're not. I hope one day we will be lucky enough to offer this kindness and grace to other young parents, but for now we will continue to strive to extend it first to ourselves and each other. Snacks and grace - recommended for both long haul flights and everyday life.

Nicole xx