Thanksgiving is one of the biggest travel weekends in the US. In honor of that, I’m posting an excerpt from my e-book 10 Reasons NOT To Travel With Kids.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Because airplanes are no place for potty emergencies
They cry, they fuss, they scream, they are usually hungry and in need of the potty simultaneous to your arrival at seat 435 E. You discover the emergency just as you see the line in the far-distance forming outside the airplane restroom. Have mercy on your fellow travelers & yourself and leave your kids at home.

Avoid inpatient psychiatric treatment
In your deepest heart, you know Mommy will end up in a home after traveling in an enclosed vehicle of any kind with young children, an intermittently helpful spouse, and insufficient caffeine. And your health insurance (should you have any) won’t cover that sort of breakdown, now will it?!

Because people always say they’ll “help”…
But when you actually arrive at your host’s home, you find that their idea of “helping” means holding your screaming toddler so you can go to the bathroom. Whereas you had hoped they would watch the children for 85 hours so you could sleep, shop, get a massage and go on that dream date.

If you ARE traveling with kids this holiday, you have my sympathy. Be sure to see my apple martini recipe for relief once you reach your destination…

What about you, any reasons you’d like to share? I’m all ears.

The sheer necessity of mommy time-out notwithstanding, it takes considerably more intestinal fortitude to walk away from your sweet darlings and board a plane for three days for the first time, than to say “fuck” in a bar during a three hour break from your kids. I practically mewed in sorrow when my kittens waved goodbye. It didn’t help that I could see little baby pudding mouthing and crying ‘mama mama mama.’

Once at the terminal, safely ensconced in the secure portable filled to the rim with young rowdy Canadians on their way to Vegas, I was immediately approached by a small person (around 2) who grabbed my book and said something incomprehensible in waddler language (’bad ladies bad ladies bad ladies, rule!; or something).

Now it’s clear blue and a less than full flight to Atlanta…. And I’m waiting for the turbulence to die down so I can order a celebratory glass of wine and dream of the fun we’ll have this weekend.

I’m tied and free… a mommy bird soaring away from the nest with a great yawp and tweet, all the while looking back hoping all the chickies have enough food and warmth to get them through until Monday.