After reading Kesha Bernard’s viral Facebook post in which she helps a mom who was struggling with crying kids on a packed airplane flight, I wanted to give her a medal of honor for being an everyday hero. Because I have been that struggling mother on quite a few occasions.

Living a couple thousand miles from my immediate family means that every year I fly—with kids—on tiring flights. On multiple occasions I’ve flown solo with kids. This summer I flew alone with four kids aged 2, 4, 6 and 8. Last summer I did it alone with each of those kids being a year younger. I’ve flown with sleeping newborns, squirmy 9-month-olds and impossible 18-month-olds. On some flights my kids have been surprisingly angelic. On others I’ve fought with a loud, kicking toddler for 4 exhausting hours. Believe me, it’s not fun.

I’ve experienced the anxious, dreading sideline glances of passengers when they see young kids approaching their seats. I’ve witnessed the “huffing, puffing and mumbling.” Honestly, some people seem to get annoyed by the mere presence of kids, even when their behavior is just fine. Unfortunately, only on a small handful of occasions in the last decade of plane travel with kids has someone offered to help, and it’s usually been a kind-hearted passenger.

I know it’s annoying to listen to a young child whine or cry. I know it’s annoying when they talk loudly or get excited and yell (or in my 2-year-old’s case, when she sings her heart out). I know there are a lot of business travellers on flights these days who are expecting to read, work or sleep the entire flight. But, fellow passengers, try to understand.

The planes my family travel on are public transportation just like buses or ferries or trains. I’m allowed to board them with my kids, and these flights are not designated silent zones. They are not even “adult-only” zones. I promise I will do my best to get my kids to behave well during the flight. But I can’t promise you a silent flight, and you are not entitled to one.

If I see one of my kids kick your seat I’ll get them to stop, but they might sneak one in anyways. My toddler sometimes gets excited and (like a normal child with exceptionally healthy lungs) screams out of joy, fear, excitement, whatever. If that happens I’ll promptly reminder her to use her “inside voice,” but she’s likely to forget at some point during the flight.

If my 4-year-old drops a crayon or fruit snack and it somehow finds its way under your seat, let’s not treat it like a criminal offense, ok? If—heaven forbid—my toddler has ear pain because of the changes in air pressure, there might be a little loud crying. They are kids, after all, and as hard as I’ve tried I haven’t been able to get our two-year-old to act 21.

The human family we are all a part of consists of people of all ages. We need to bear with one another a little more. Children seem to have been largely pushed out of many public places, but they have every right to be there. Please don’t treat my kids like they don’t belong on your flight. I know you have important places to go. So do we. My kids need to see their grandparents.

So dear fellow passenger: as long as you’re not hiring private jets and we find ourselves on the same flight, let’s make a deal. I’ll do my very best—I promise—to have my kids behave well on our shared flight. I’m prepared. I have snacks, activities, iPads, patience and stamina. But my best efforts can’t 100% ensure total serenity. And you—you do your very best to welcome them on the flight, and overlook minor outbursts in their otherwise-good behavior. Oh, and if you see me struggling under the weight of a toddler, diaper bag, purse, carry-on case and stroller, feel free to be an everyday hero and offer to help with a smile. See you on our next flight.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Zrinka Peters

Zrinka lives on 35 acres in MN with her husband, six kids and an ever-changing number of furry and feathered creatures. She loves book clubs, flowerbeds, and successful gluten-free baking. One of her greatest hopes is to lead her children to love deeply. She sometimes catches a few minutes to write in between snacks, laundry, and kid catastrophes. She hopes to make her little corner of the world a better place one word at a time.

I Thought Our Friendship Would Be Unbreakable

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Two friends selfie

The message notification pinged on my phone. A woman, once one of my best friends, was reaching out to me via Facebook. Her message simply read, “Wanted to catch up and see how life was treating you!”  I had very conflicting feelings. It seemed with that one single message, a flood of memories surfaced. Some held some great moments and laughter. Other memories held disappointment and hurt of a friendship that simply had run its course. Out of morbid curiosity, I clicked on her profile page to see how the years had been treating her. She was divorced and still...

Keep Reading

The First 10 Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking

In: Journal, Marriage, Relationships
The First Ten Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking www.herviewfromhome.com

We met online in October of 2005, by way of a spam email ad I was THIS CLOSE to marking as trash. Meet Single Christians! My cheese alert siren sounded loudly, but for some reason, I unchecked the delete box and clicked through to the site. We met face-to-face that Thanksgiving. As I awaited your arrival in my mother’s kitchen, my dad whispered to my little brother, “Hide your valuables. Stacy has some guy she met online coming for Thanksgiving dinner.” We embraced for the first time in my parents’ driveway. I was wearing my black cashmere sweater with the...

Keep Reading

To The Mother Who Is Overwhelmed

In: Inspiration, Motherhood
Tired woman with coffee sitting at table

I have this one head. It is a normal sized head. It didn’t get bigger because I had children. Just like I didn’t grow an extra arm with the birth of each child. I mean, while that would be nice, it’s just not the case. We keep our one self. And the children we add on each add on to our weight in this life. And the head didn’t grow more heads because we become a wife to someone. Or a boss to someone. We carry the weight of motherhood. The decisions we must make each day—fight the shorts battle...

Keep Reading

You’re a Little Less Baby Today Than Yesterday

In: Journal, Motherhood
Toddler sleeping in mother's arms

Tiny sparkles are nestled in the wispy hair falling across her brow, shaken free of the princess costume she pulled over her head this morning. She’s swathed in pink: a satiny pink dress-up bodice, a fluffy, pink, slightly-less-glittery-than-it-was-two-hours-ago tulle skirt, a worn, soft pink baby blanket. She’s slowed long enough to crawl into my lap, blinking heavy eyelids. She’s a little less baby today than she was only yesterday.  Soon, she’ll be too big, too busy for my arms.  But today, I’m rocking a princess. The early years will be filled with exploration and adventure. She’ll climb atop counters and...

Keep Reading

Dear Husband, I Loved You First

In: Marriage, Motherhood, Relationships
Man and woman kissing in love

Dear husband, I loved you first. But often, you get the last of me. I remember you picking me up for our first date. I spent a whole hour getting ready for you. Making sure every hair was in place and my make-up was perfect. When you see me now at the end of the day, the make-up that is left on my face is smeared. My hair is more than likely in a ponytail or some rat’s nest on the top of my head. And my outfit, 100% has someone’s bodily fluids smeared somewhere. But there were days when...

Keep Reading

Stop Being a Butthole Wife

In: Grief, Journal, Marriage, Relationships
Man and woman sit on the end of a dock with arms around each other

Stop being a butthole wife. No, I’m serious. End it.  Let’s start with the laundry angst. I get it, the guy can’t find the hamper. It’s maddening. It’s insanity. Why, why, must he leave piles of clothes scattered, the same way that the toddler does, right? I mean, grow up and help out around here, man. There is no laundry fairy. What if that pile of laundry is a gift in disguise from a God you can’t (yet) see? Don’t roll your eyes, hear me out on this one. I was a butthole wife. Until my husband died. The day...

Keep Reading

I Can’t Be Everyone’s Chick-fil-A Sauce

In: Friendship, Journal, Living, Relationships
woman smiling in the sun

A couple of friends and I went and grabbed lunch at Chick-fil-A a couple of weeks ago. It was delightful. We spent roughly $20 apiece, and our kids ran in and out of the play area barefoot and stinky and begged us for ice cream, to which we responded, “Not until you finish your nuggets,” to which they responded with a whine, and then ran off again like a bolt of crazy energy. One friend had to climb into the play tubes a few times to save her 22-month-old, but it was still worth every penny. Every. Single. One. Even...

Keep Reading

Love Notes From My Mother in Heaven

In: Faith, Grief, Journal, Living
Woman smelling bunch of flowers

Twelve years have passed since my mother exclaimed, “I’ve died and gone to Heaven!” as she leaned back in her big donut-shaped tube and splashed her toes, enjoying the serenity of the river.  Twelve years since I stood on the shore of that same river, 45 minutes later, watching to see if the hopeful EMT would be able to revive my mother as she floated toward his outstretched hands. Twelve years ago, I stood alone in my bedroom, weak and trembling, as I opened my mother’s Bible and all the little keepsakes she’d stowed inside tumbled to the floor.  It...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Friendships End, No Matter How Hard You Try

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Sad woman alone without a friend

I tried. We say these words for two reasons. One: for our own justification that we made an effort to complete a task; and two: to admit that we fell short of that task. I wrote those words in an e-mail tonight to a friend I had for nearly 25 years after not speaking to her for eight months. It was the third e-mail I’ve sent over the past few weeks to try to reconcile with a woman who was more of a sister to me at some points than my own biological sister was. It’s sad when we drift...

Keep Reading

Goodbye to the House That Built Me

In: Grown Children, Journal, Living, Relationships
Ranch style home as seen from the curb

In the winter of 1985, while I was halfway done growing in my mom’s belly, my parents moved into a little brown 3 bedroom/1.5 bath that was halfway between the school and the prison in which my dad worked as a corrections officer. I would be the first baby they brought home to their new house, joining my older sister. I’d take my first steps across the brown shag carpet that the previous owner had installed. The back bedroom was mine, and mom plastered Smurf-themed wallpaper on the accent wall to try to get me to sleep in there every...

Keep Reading