Just in case you were already wondering how the tale ends, we did make it back home safely (about 27 hours later). If you want to still have any faith in airline personnel, perhaps you should stop reading now and instead just scan the photos (all random ones from our time in MS, not from the flights).
It all began pretty well at the Jackson airport.
Of my 5 check-in bags, only 2 were over the weight limit (easily remedied by some creative rearranging, which I did while the SkyCap guy laughed at my odd assortment...6 boxes of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, a container of wooden fruit, Spray 'n Wash, etc).
My mom & Liam were happily playing, and Julia returned from an excursion through the airport with G-Da with a giant chocolate chip cookie and equally giant grin (just what you want to give a toddler before confining her to an airplane seat for hours on end!).
We loaded the children and luggage into our newly acquired
sit-n-stand double stroller...a great fit that let me avoid becoming a pack mule with kids, bags, and a carseat on my back for the duration of the trip (or so I thought), and waving goodbye to Nana and G-da, away we went.
The flight to Dallas was wonderfully uneventful, and we got off the plane and waited patiently by the door for our stroller. It was delivered promptly by one of the luggage handlers who so delicately threw it at our feet. As the baggage handler walked away, so did the wheels of our stroller...or rather, away they rolled down the skybridge like rats abandoning a sinking ship.
As the stroller was still new to us, I thought for a brief moment that perhaps the wheels were meant to be removeable, and I could simply click them back into place. But that was not the case. Strollers are built to take such an incredible beating from the children who ride in them and the parents who lug them in and out of car trunks, but somehow the airline had actually managed to break through plastic and metal, detaching the wheels so thoroughly that no amount of duck tape (which they offered me) was going to hold it together (and I've known duck tape to hold car doors in place!) well enough to support the weight of two children and our bags safely (or otherwise).
I'll skip the next two hours of arguing with the airline staff and laughing at their ridiculous suggestions (e.g. the proffered loaner stroller to which Julia said, "I have one of those"....for her doll!). We were eventually put on one of those carts that takes the handicapped people, and I even convinced the driver to stop at the food court and wait for us while I got dinner for the kids. With all of 6 minutes to spare before our flight departed, we were situated on the plane bound for LA.
Our seatmate was a godsend! She played peek-a-boo with Liam while I took Julia to the bathroom, helped Julia dress her dolls while I took Liam to change his diaper, provided me with such much-needed adult conversation while the children briefly slept, and even carried all our luggage off the plane when we landed in LA!
Of course, in LA we still had no stroller. I had firmly told the airline that they needed to have someone meet us at the airplane to provide assistance, and amazingly someone was indeed waiting for us...with a wheelchair. Now I was prepared to simply use the wheelchair to hold our bags (or the children even, had they been willing), but the man in control of said wheelchair took one look at us, proclaimed, "But you don't need a wheelchair" and promptly abandoned us. A few more firm "conversations" with the airline supervisors and the man reappeared sans wheelchair.
We both became pack mules then as I carried both children and a backpack while he shouldered the other carry-on bags and carseat, and we got quiet a few stares making slow progress to the next gate (which, thankfully, was in the same terminal). But again we had a problem. Liam didn't have a ticket.
For some bizarre reason, infant tickets on international flights are still issued only as paper tickets. Since we had extended our trip by two weeks and due to yet another airline incompetency, his new ticket had not been mailed to us in time for our flights. We had been told that we couldn't just go to the gate but had to go all the way to the international check-in desk for Qantas to be re-issued the new ticket.
Again cutting short the story of the next two hours, I did manage to track down a very disgruntled Qantas supervisor who allowed us to complete that process over the phone while our very jumpy luggage handler threatened at any second to abandon us again (I actually resorted to dog commands, "Sir, stay....no, stay" since polite pleading had previously failed).
Finally, the time to board was nearing (nearly midnight Jackson time), and all we had to do was wait for the overly cheery Qantas lady to issue our actual boarding passes. Liam was in my arms, but Julia was standing down at my side, out of this lady's view. She handed over our boarding passes and chirped, "Now we've gotten you a bassinet for the infant" (fantastic) "so you'll be in 47J...and Julia is 53F. Have a great flight."
I just stared at her, smiled, picked up Julia, sat her up on the counter in front of the lady and said, "Alright, so that's 47J and 53F." Then I stared calmly at her again. It took her a full minute to register. "Oh, now that's not going to work, is it?" the lady said. Well, ma'am, it sure would make MY life a lot easier to sit a few rows away from the 2-year-old, but I'm not sure how the person in 53G will feel!
An hour later we settled ourselves into 47J & 47K next to yet another wonderfully helpful and extraordinarily patient person who provided just enough help and support to make the flight bearable.
Since those of you who are still reading this are beginning to feel as if you too have been dragged through 14 or more hours of travel, I'll wrap this up. 14 hours later we arrived in Brisbane.
2 hours after that we were released from health quarantine. 1 hour more and we were released from agricultural quarantine and finally allowed to walk beyond the nearly impenetrable barrier that is Australian customs. Matt greeted us and our entourage (the carry-ons, the carseat, stray dolls and toys, a flight attendant and two trolleys piled high with luggage), and finally we went home.
Liam was more interested in drawing on himself than the paper. 
Julia pulled out a little foam cut-outs project we'd gotten months ago and with only minimal assistance created a beautiful butterfly for the banner. 
Welcome to Australia, Nana!!
Another late post, but Matt turned 31 on July 26th. We had a fun gathering with his parents and brothers down at the Gold Coast on the weekend of his birthday, and then last week he and I went to see David Copperfield (the magician) as his big birthday present. The show was amazing, and it was such a treat to have a true date night!
Before the show
Family photo attempt #3,672
After brunch at the Sheraton Hotel....
Like father, like son
The boys
Julia reminded us many times that day that her birthday was next!
Happy Birthday, Matt! We love you!
That's right, roos. Don't mess with me.
These two huge roos were sweet as can be
seeming all sweet and innocent...
Because about one second after I took this photo, the kangaroo swiped at Liam's face with both front paws and made a hissing sound like a cat.
Julia and the birthday girl, Caydence
Just in case you were already wondering how the tale ends, we did make it back home safely (about 27 hours later). If you want to still have any faith in airline personnel, perhaps you should stop reading now and instead just scan the photos (all random ones from our time in MS, not from the flights).
Of my 5 check-in bags, only 2 were over the weight limit (easily remedied by some creative rearranging, which I did while the SkyCap guy laughed at my odd assortment...6 boxes of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, a container of wooden fruit, Spray 'n Wash, etc).
We loaded the children and luggage into our newly acquired sit-n-stand double stroller...a great fit that let me avoid becoming a pack mule with kids, bags, and a carseat on my back for the duration of the trip (or so I thought), and waving goodbye to Nana and G-da, away we went.
The flight to Dallas was wonderfully uneventful, and we got off the plane and waited patiently by the door for our stroller. It was delivered promptly by one of the luggage handlers who so delicately threw it at our feet. As the baggage handler walked away, so did the wheels of our stroller...or rather, away they rolled down the skybridge like rats abandoning a sinking ship.
As the stroller was still new to us, I thought for a brief moment that perhaps the wheels were meant to be removeable, and I could simply click them back into place. But that was not the case. Strollers are built to take such an incredible beating from the children who ride in them and the parents who lug them in and out of car trunks, but somehow the airline had actually managed to break through plastic and metal, detaching the wheels so thoroughly that no amount of duck tape (which they offered me) was going to hold it together (and I've known duck tape to hold car doors in place!) well enough to support the weight of two children and our bags safely (or otherwise).
I'll skip the next two hours of arguing with the airline staff and laughing at their ridiculous suggestions (e.g. the proffered loaner stroller to which Julia said, "I have one of those"....for her doll!). We were eventually put on one of those carts that takes the handicapped people, and I even convinced the driver to stop at the food court and wait for us while I got dinner for the kids. With all of 6 minutes to spare before our flight departed, we were situated on the plane bound for LA.
Our seatmate was a godsend! She played peek-a-boo with Liam while I took Julia to the bathroom, helped Julia dress her dolls while I took Liam to change his diaper, provided me with such much-needed adult conversation while the children briefly slept, and even carried all our luggage off the plane when we landed in LA!
Of course, in LA we still had no stroller. I had firmly told the airline that they needed to have someone meet us at the airplane to provide assistance, and amazingly someone was indeed waiting for us...with a wheelchair. Now I was prepared to simply use the wheelchair to hold our bags (or the children even, had they been willing), but the man in control of said wheelchair took one look at us, proclaimed, "But you don't need a wheelchair" and promptly abandoned us. A few more firm "conversations" with the airline supervisors and the man reappeared sans wheelchair.
We both became pack mules then as I carried both children and a backpack while he shouldered the other carry-on bags and carseat, and we got quiet a few stares making slow progress to the next gate (which, thankfully, was in the same terminal). But again we had a problem. Liam didn't have a ticket.
For some bizarre reason, infant tickets on international flights are still issued only as paper tickets. Since we had extended our trip by two weeks and due to yet another airline incompetency, his new ticket had not been mailed to us in time for our flights. We had been told that we couldn't just go to the gate but had to go all the way to the international check-in desk for Qantas to be re-issued the new ticket.
Again cutting short the story of the next two hours, I did manage to track down a very disgruntled Qantas supervisor who allowed us to complete that process over the phone while our very jumpy luggage handler threatened at any second to abandon us again (I actually resorted to dog commands, "Sir, stay....no, stay" since polite pleading had previously failed).
Finally, the time to board was nearing (nearly midnight Jackson time), and all we had to do was wait for the overly cheery Qantas lady to issue our actual boarding passes. Liam was in my arms, but Julia was standing down at my side, out of this lady's view. She handed over our boarding passes and chirped, "Now we've gotten you a bassinet for the infant" (fantastic) "so you'll be in 47J...and Julia is 53F. Have a great flight."
I just stared at her, smiled, picked up Julia, sat her up on the counter in front of the lady and said, "Alright, so that's 47J and 53F." Then I stared calmly at her again. It took her a full minute to register. "Oh, now that's not going to work, is it?" the lady said. Well, ma'am, it sure would make MY life a lot easier to sit a few rows away from the 2-year-old, but I'm not sure how the person in 53G will feel!
An hour later we settled ourselves into 47J & 47K next to yet another wonderfully helpful and extraordinarily patient person who provided just enough help and support to make the flight bearable.
2 hours after that we were released from health quarantine. 1 hour more and we were released from agricultural quarantine and finally allowed to walk beyond the nearly impenetrable barrier that is Australian customs. Matt greeted us and our entourage (the carry-ons, the carseat, stray dolls and toys, a flight attendant and two trolleys piled high with luggage), and finally we went home.
Liam had to abandon his boots for the walk down the long driveway since he's still not too steady on his feet
