Me. On A Plane.

I hate flying.

I don't hate it enough to avoid doing it.  I hate looking like a big baby more than I hate flying, apparently.

I hate flying and I hate the stupid things people say to me about flying.

"Stop giving your fear energy.  Planes crash because people thought too much about it.  They brought it upon themselves."

Um, okay.  I watched The Secret.  File it right there with religion.  I just don't get most of it.

"Just pray about it.  Bring the angels around you."

Dude, do you even know me?  Wait, you do.  I do not try to push my lack of belief in god or angels on you.  Why do you do this?

"Drink.  Heavily."

Yeah, I'm not a big drinker.  I'll be partially responsible for two kids and their massive freaking car seats.  Oh, and I anticipate Fynnie will try hard to nurse her way through our six hour flights.  When she's not otherwise shrieking her head off, trying to antagonize her sister (with that adorable devilish look in her eyes) or doing exactly the opposite of whatever she's asked, instructed or commanded to do.

"If it's your time to go, it's your time to go."

Okay, fine.  If it's my time, I'll go.  But I don't want to.  I want to live.  I want to see who my girls are as they get older.  I want to see Corey take some major turns for the better.

And what about my girls, who'll be with us?  I don't want it to be their time.  And I don't want them to have such devastation as life without their parents.

What about Corey, who will not be joining us on this trip?  He's a wreck on his good days right now.  How would he cope with knowing we're no longer here if he decides he wants us or needs us?  And, honestly, what would happen if he had access to our life insurance?  Not like it's a lot, but it's more than he's ever going to see sitting around Grammy's house all day.  I totally foresee my mom's home being overrun with the latest in video game and tech gear.  And more junk food.

One of the things I try to have done before going on vacation is to make sure all of the photos are edited and sent off to my mother-in-law.  (Not even possible this time, ugh!)  As far as she's concerned (I hope), it's so that I have less to deal with when we get back.  But in the forefront of my brain is the idea that I want her to have everything possible before we go.  Same reason I'm hoping to get the bathrooms cleaned ASAP.  And, yeah, it's the same reason I wonder if I should toss certain things before leaving.  I mean, seriously, who wants to come across that while packing up someone's house?

It's at the head of every action and thought.  It's stupid and it sucks.  And I know it's wasted energy. I understand that the months of thinking "What if?" since booking the flights are moments upon hours I cannot get back.

But knowing it and making it stop are not the same.  The only cure is to go and to return.  To file another trip.  I've logged a lot of miles in fear.  Lame.

The upside?  Always looking for it.  There are a few highlights.  One, since we are flying with the girls, I will continue to avoid projecting my fear to them, thus not giving into all out panic.  Two, since we are flying directly across the country, we'll be up higher and hopefully have less turbulence than we have had on shorter flights.  Three, no one I've talked to has said that flying into Boston is bad.  Huge difference compared to flying into Vegas, for example.  On the other hand, no one I've talked to has actually flown into Boston.  Their stories are all anecdotes from others.

And then there's the fact that we'll be off on another family adventure.  A bizarre one where, two days before we leave, we still have no clue where we're staying or where the unnamed hotel is in relation to the airport.  We do have a room.  Somewhere.  And plenty of plans for the short time we'll be there.  Not that we know what the exact plans are aside from the wedding.

And should when we return, I will look back on this trip fondly.  As I usually do once the sense of free falling through the sky and slamming into the ground is no longer relevant.