traveling with toddlers (and untreated anxiety disorder), a cautionary tale

After spending a week visiting my parents in New Jersey, Joseph and I are now home.  I will spare you the details of the return flight; suffice it to say that as we were disembarking, a woman put her hand on my shoulder and said "Oh dear, and you're expecting too--God bless you." 

We were those people. 

I have sworn a blood oath to never attempt traveling with a toddler without an ample supply of Xanax or some other fast acting sedative (for me).

Joseph loved his vacation--small wonder since my parents treat him like the baby Jesus and shower him with presents and adoration.  Me, I managed to escape without any major illnesses (unless you count a mysterious rash on my arm), which puts this trip head and shoulders above the previous five or six times I've been away from home.  I am not a good traveler.  I assume most people can take it in stride when they encounter all the usual traveling stresses:  flight delays, power-mad airport security, inscrutable showers, unfamiliar and unidentifiable noises in their temporary bedrooms, etc.  These things disorient me to the point where I have embarrassingly transparent nightmares (e.g., being carried away by hot air balloons) and get confused about where I really live (when I go home will I be returning to Florida or Phoenix? what side of the bed do I usually sleep on?).

I am not being facetious when I say that I am so very relieved that having three young children will provide years worth of excuses for not traveling.